


The Original Temptation

by SealandRocks



Series: Love Stories for the Oblivious [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 30 Day NSFW Challenge, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathtubs, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Experienced Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Heavy Petting, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Pre-Apocalypse, Quiet Sex, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sloppy Makeouts, Temptation, Undressing, Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2020-07-30 12:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SealandRocks/pseuds/SealandRocks
Summary: “Tempt me? To what?”“To anything. Anything that isn’t food. Let me tempt you into adventure.”Crowley, for all his years on Earth, never really got the hang of temptation. Aziraphale offers to help, seemingly for innocent enough reasons. Crowley accepts, for seemingly innocent reasons as well. Only things have never been innocent between them.





	1. Intro/Naked Cuddling

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first 30 days NSFW challenge! It will probably take more than 30 days to complete, just a heads up. This doesn't fit into the previous world I established in this series, but it should still be a fun ride! (Literally) The chapter names will be what the days challenge is, but what I actually write may be just slightly different. Let's bring on the temptations!

“Let me tempt you.”

It wasn’t the first time Crowley had said those words, but it was rare to not have them be followed by a “to lunch” or something similar. He just left it at those four simple words. Just the thrill of an open temptation in the air. 

“Tempt me? To what?” Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, taking a sip from his wine glass. Crowley was lounging over the side of a couch in the back room of the bookshop, legs spread in an unintentionally sexual way, and was openly staring. If the temptation had already started, it was definitely doing something. Aziraphale felt something hot spark beneath his ribs.

“To anything. Anything that isn’t food. Let me tempt you into adventure.”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale said, “Where is this coming from? You tempt me all the time, but you’re rarely so blatant about it.”

Crowley stood, pacing around the room and letting his arms make dramatic motions in front of him. 

“I can tempt you to going to dinner with me every time without fail, but that’s just something you want to do in the first place. It doesn’t take a demon to get you to eat. So I’d like to tempt you to something else. I need to work on my temptations before downstairs starts figuring things out, and it’s easier to practice on you than some human that’ll die one day and mess up the whole operation.”

Aziraphale hummed, swirling the wine in his glass. He didn’t really know what to say to that. He had always assumed Crowley had plenty of experience tempting, considering his job description. But now that he thought about it, his technique had always been pushing someone in the wrong direction rather than guiding them towards it. That’s what made him so successful. 

“It doesn’t have to be something big.” Crowley flopped back down on the couch, eyes pleading, “It just has to be something you wouldn’t normally do. Donate a box of books. Rip the sleeves off a shirt. Sleep with a stranger. I don’t really care, but I need to improve my technique and I don’t want to do it without your permission.”

Aziraphale found a certain flavor of sweetness in that. Despite how much they were supposed to be enemies, Crowley couldn’t even bring himself to be dishonest. His cheeks felt hot, and Aziraphale decided he had to set his glass down for this conversation. 

“I’ve done all of those things before, Crowley. And even if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be able to tempt me. I’m an angel, I don’t get tempted into evil.”

“I don’t mean getting rid of newspapers, but actual books. Taking actual scissors to a shirt just because you want to. Having sex: two people, naked, touching, the whole nine yards.” Crowley was leaning forward. Lord, he was so close Aziraphale could smell his cologne. His eyes were entirely too distracting. He found himself leaning forward in turn, placing his face inches away and making eye contact.

“Who said I’ve never done that?” Aziraphale’s voice was a whisper. Even drunk it was impossible to see how Crowley’s cheeks stained red, something unreadable clouding his eyes as he drew back and cleared his throat. 

The subject dropped after that. They moved on to other things, other inflictions, but the air stayed thick. There was almost a sort of tension hanging about now, hot and sultry. Aziraphale could barely breathe until Crowley departed for the evening, heading back to his own house. 

Suddenly, the bookshop seemed very empty. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what was missing, but he forcefully told himself it wasn’t because he missed Crowley. That would be absurd. He had gone centuries without his company, missing him ten minutes after his departure was ridiculous. But still, something was hollow in his chest. Maybe Crowley’s temptations were already more successful than he had intended.

Days passed without any word from the demon. This wasn’t unusual, so Aziraphale didn’t look into it, but the longing in his chest hadn’t gone away yet. He had went and got sushi, went to the theater, got lost in a book, but nothing had worked yet. Aziraphale didn’t care for this feeling of loneliness seeping into his bones, so he decided to break out the big guns in a last ditch effort to feel better. 

Aziraphale breathed softly into the damp air. The movement disturbed the water droplets that were suspended around him, causing swirling patterns to trace before his eyes in the dim light of the candles. Aziraphale was transported back to Egypt, where he had watched the wind play with the sand for hundreds of years. It was still just as magical. 

The soft scent of his lavender bubble bath hung in the air like silk. It made Aziraphale feel completely comfortable in the naked silence of his bathroom, his skin practically drinking in the relaxation of the evening. He traced a finger through the hot water, shivering slightly at the comparative cool of the room. 

Submerging his body in the tub was beyond Heavenly. In contrast, the noise Aziraphale made was very much sinful, and even in the isolation of his bathroom his cheeks heated in embarrassment. He had never been one to shy away from earthly indulgence, but if up above could see him now no doubt Gabriel would have some choice words. Even the excuse of taking care of his vessel only went so far. 

Without meaning to, his thoughts drifted back to Crowley for the thousandth time that evening. Aziraphale did not envy. But there was a sort of freedom about Crowley that Aziraphale wished he could share. Hell didn’t care if Crowley ate to his heart’s content or indulged his mortal body’s desires. As long as he got the souls in his quota, they left him alone to his own devices. Crowley got to tempt away without worry about what side he was doing it for. Aziraphale did not enjoy the methods Hell had of securing people into sin, but temptation itself was completely neutral and divine. It was a shame he couldn’t do more of it himself.

The bubbles tickled Aziraphale’s nose as he sunk further into the tub. His eyes closed and he lost himself in lavender. Did Crowley ever have baths like this? He was always so clean and put-together, even in the old days, that it seemed unlikely Crowley never bathed. But, then again, Crowley often did things just because they were needed and not for any sort of indulgence. 

Still, in this moment, there was no one else Aziraphale would have shared a bath with. He had bathed with others before, of course, in the many years he had spent on Earth. Humans were very creative with their bodies, and Aziraphale had rather liked the closeness that came about from lovers sharing a bath. Suddenly, an intense wave of longing coursed through the angel. He wanted Crowley to be there with him. Despite what he would ever admit out loud, Crowley was the best company any world had to offer. He was witty and snarky and unbelievably gentle, and Aziraphale wanted to talk to him more than anything in the world. Maybe he should have invested in that smartphone Crowley had been telling him about. 

But the longing in his chest went deeper than that. Yes, Aziraphale wanted to hear Crowley’s voice and talk to him about all the unimportant, tiny things that happened in the shop today, but he also wanted to see him. To watch his mouth form words and hands weave stories. He wanted to touch those hands and run his hands up over Crowley’s thighs like that one time 254 years ago when they had both gotten a little too drunk. He wanted to see his demon blush like that again, hear him stutter his words, and breathe in the charcoal and apple scent Crowley put off every time he was nervous. He had never seen Crowley like that before, and it had been enough to fuel his own personal romantic rendezvous for the past two and a half centuries. 

Aziraphale’s longing suddenly spiked, ripping his breath away. His ears popped, his body surging forward from where he had been lounging, and an invisible cord inside his chest snapped. Aziraphale gasped, vision blurring for a brief moment before lightning sparked through the room. There was a sudden splash on the other end of the tub, water sloshing out in a huge wave as suddenly that volume was replaced with flailing limbs and black leather.

“Jesus fuck, Mary, and Joseph!” Crowley’s swearing filled the room. He squirmed wildly, caught somewhere between falling and fighting the air in front of him. The demon’s legs had slotted on either side of Aziraphale, and as they struggled for purchase it caused Crowley’s butt to slide down and dunked his head briefly underwater. The shock of water caused Crowley to sit up, now closer to the stunned angel, and wiped the bubbles away from his eyes as he coughed up the soapy water. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice seemed to soothe the demon a bit, and the water slowly settled as Crowley stopped trying to escape the water and pay attention. 

“Oh. Hey, Aziraphale.” 

Crowley, for all his initial flailing, was remarkably calm now. His knees jutted awkwardly up out of the water on either side of Aziraphale, but he had an air of grace to him that made it seem very endearing. There was still a thick knot of confusion on his face, but he didn’t seem disturbed to be sharing a bathtub with Aziraphale. Who was, he just remembered, very naked. The angel very subtly dropped his hands in front of where his legs joined his pelvis. Unfortunately, since Crowley was struggling for answers in front of him, the movement was tracked and led to that dangerous mouth quirking up on the side.

“If you wanted to chat during your bath, you could have just called.” 

Aziraphale straightened his back, trying to recall some of his clothed confidence despite being exposed. Crowley’s confusion was quickly turning into something else, something knowing and sexy that Aziraphale was determined not to think about. 

“The phone doesn’t reach all the way up here. Besides, I didn’t mean to bring you here, it just sort of happened.”

Crowley grinned, his teeth a bit sharper than Aziraphale remembered. Not that he was staring or anything. 

“So, you ‘accidentally’ miracled me into your bath to… see me?” 

I’d like to see more of you, Aziraphale’s mind suddenly supplied. His cheeks burned at the thought, and he tried to push it away. He failed, suddenly imagining Crowley completely naked with him and sharing this bath properly. His ears popped again, giving him a slight warning.

Crowley yelped as his clothes disappeared, suddenly just as exposed at Aziraphale himself. He was spitting out more obscenities, but Aziraphale didn’t hear them, captivated by the sparse dusting of hair across his nipples, the way his ribs were visible through his skin, and how his blush was centered right between his nipples and down…

Aziraphale forced his eyes up, suddenly aware that Crowley had stopped cursing. Instead, the demon was staring at him with open curiosity, no longer disguised by his glasses. He wasn’t smiling anymore. 

They were both quiet for a torturously long time. Eventually, Crowley shifted his legs into a more comfortable position, making both angel and demon suddenly aware of how much of their bodies were touching. Their legs were properly tangled together, and there wasn’t enough room left in the tub to seperate. The silence was dangerous, but Aziraphale didn’t know how to end it. 

“I didn’t mean to do that either. I suppose it’s just the unfortunate result of you… tempting me.” Aziraphale hadn’t meant to say that, but it wasn’t entirely false. After all, Crowley had been the one to suggest he make love to someone. If his mind had been plagued with rancorous thoughts ever since, it wasn’t his own fault. 

Aziraphale suddenly felt very bold. Before he could stop himself, he slid his hands to Crowley’s calves, tracing his fingertips up behind his knees and indulging in the soft skin he found there. Crowley’s feet twitched at Aziraphale’s side, water swirling around them as his toes curled. The flush on his chest deepened, creeping upwards until his cheeks were stained a delicious cherry color. 

“I didn’t tempt you.” Crowley’s voice was soft and unsteady, and it teased Aziraphale’s hands up the back of his thighs. 

“But you did. The last time you were here, you tempted me in ways humans have done before. Ways that I’ve tempted people before. It doesn’t take much to tempt, my dear boy. It can just take a word, a right push, two people, naked, touching, the whole nine yards.” 

Crowley looked like he was going to explode. His eyes were wide, intoxicating, and he looked just very slightly scared. The lavender scent of the air was overpowered by charcoal and apple. Aziraphale breathed it in greedily, pretending like he hadn’t wanted to get Crowley in this exact position for hundreds of years. Crowley’s chest was moving up and down in heavy breaths, and Aziraphale wanted more. Craved to explore and lick and kiss and bite until Crowley couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“I’ve never tempted like that before.”

Aziraphale smiled, leaning forwards. Crowley drifted just slightly towards him, magnetically, and the movement gave him the confidence he was looking for. 

“I could teach you. Like you said, you need the practice. And it’s nothing I haven’t done before.” 

Crowley gulped, suddenly silent. The air was once again heavy between them, full of intent.

“But you’re an angel. Why would you want to do that?”

“If you’re all tied up with me, you’re not out there tempting some innocent person. And I need practice tempting for good. It works out for both of us. We both get practice, you learn how to properly tempt someone sexually, and I get to thwart the demon Heaven wants me to. It all works out perfectly.”

Crowley didn’t need to know about Aziraphale’s true intents. If he could just keep up that they were working, it would make it so much simpler. No feelings, just tempting. 

The silence drew out again, but Aziraphale didn’t withdraw his comment. He could almost see the gears working behind Crowley’s eyes. Finally, he nodded, agreeing. A thrill shot up Aziraphale’s spine.

“Fantastic.” Aziraphale slid his hands higher up the back of Crowley’s thighs, dangerously high, and the demon yelped in surprise. Crowley jolted and shot out of the tub, limbs once again flailing as he fell backwards out of the tub and nakedly onto the floor. Aziraphale was overtaken by a laughing fit, the scene of Crowley hurtling himself out of the tub replaying in his mind. He only laughed harder as Crowley stood up and glared, looking like a ruffled, naked, wet cat. 

Oh, Aziraphale had so much to teach him.


	2. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new arrangement begins with what was not supposed to be so much of a bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Kissing, heavy petting.
> 
> We're getting into it now! Hope you all enjoy!

Crowley wouldn’t meet his eyes. In fact, Crowley was so committed to not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes that he had picked up an actual book under the guise of reading it. Which wasn’t fooling Aziraphale at all. Partly because Crowley was practically vibrating in his seat, but mostly because he hadn’t turned a page in over 30 minutes. Even Hemmingway didn’t take that much time to read. 

Eventually, Aziraphale leaned in and carefully took the book away. Crowley hardly seemed to even notice, letting his hands fall to his now clothed thighs and trace circles into the fabric. 

“My dear, there really isn’t a reason to look so distraught.”

Crowley finally looked at him, head raised confidently. 

“I’m not distraught. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Mmm, yes. Is that why you’ve been pretending to read for the better part of an hour?” 

Crowley didn’t respond to that. Aziraphale could almost see his eyes behind his glasses, desperate for some excuse. Or perhaps escape. Maybe he had been too presumptuous with suggesting this. 

“If you’d rather we not go forward with this, I would completely understand. I wouldn’t want to rush you into anythi-”

“Are you suggesting that you’re the one going too fast now?” There was a hint of humor in Crowley’s voice, “I want to do this. I’ve just never had, er, you know.”

Crowley waved his hand in front of him. His cheeks were still flushed from the bath he had involuntarily joined earlier that night. At least, Aziraphale had initially thought that was why. Now he was wondering if Crowley really was nervous. He reached over and took Crowley’s hand in his own, thumb rubbing calmingly over his knuckles. 

“Have you never made love to someone, my dear?”

Crowley gulped. His silence was deafening. Aziraphale shifted so their thighs pressed together on the couch, burning hot even through their clothing. This was starting to get into dangerous territory. Aziraphale cleared his throat, turning to face his demon more properly.

“Well, let’s take this slower then. Many people don’t need you to go all the way, after all, to tempt them into pursuing something on their own. You just need to press the right spots.” Aziraphale accentuated his words by beginning a massage of Crowley’s hand. He pressed his thumb up through the divets between his bones, gently working the tension out of his tendons. Crowley’s fingers twitched and Aziraphale could feel the movement, could sense the creaking of his joints, and worked his thumb next to Crowley’s knuckles.

His hand was like the rest of him: long and boney and positively dripping in sex appeal. It was perfect. No one else on Earth had hands like this. Aziraphale felt intoxicated in a way he couldn’t purge from his bloodstream, molding Crowley’s soft skin beneath the pads of his fingers and memorizing the pattern of his veins. 

“Oh,” Crowley said, breathless. 

Aziraphale moved up, massaging the stress from Crowley’s wrist next. It was amazing how much worry could build into a body after 6000 years and just these little touches were already causing Crowley’s shoulders to drop and the lines to soften around his face. Aziraphale was using both hands now, pressing and pulling ever so softly for minutes at a time as he crawled his way up his demon’s arm. 

There was a knot just above Crowley’s elbow that Aziraphale took upon himself to release, and the effect was extraordinary. As soon as the sinew of his arm unfurled, Crowley gasped, hands twitching greatly as his head fell forward. Emotion was pouring off of him in a way that almost had Aziraphale overwhelmed. 

The angel smiled to himself, pretending not to notice how Crowley was basically panting as he pressed closer. He knew what a successful seduction looked like. He had experienced quite a few himself, from both directions, he had always believed that it was the most wonderful of things. The inexperience of his partner made it that much better. Crowley wasn’t even aware that he had tangled their feet together, body desperate for more contact, and it was driving Aziraphale wild. 

All of this from a hand massage. Aziraphale suddenly worried for Crowley’s stamina if he was sensitive enough to get riled up by this. Maybe they had to take this much slower than he had originally planned. 

“You see? Just a simple touch can go a long way.” Aziraphale pulled away with a brush of his fingertips down Crowley’s forearm. Crowley shivered, looking up to Aziraphale’s face. His glasses had slipped down his nose, leaving those captivating eyes dangerously exposed. Aziraphale had seen lust before, but never from a demon and its potency was enough to send a sharp jolt of arousal down his spine. 

“Fascinating.” Crowley cleared his throat, regaining a bit of composure but not moving to fix his glasses. Instead, he took Aziraphale’s hand in his own like a mirror of before. “May I?”

Aziraphale nodded, heart hammering in his chest. Crowley’s fingers were hot against his skin. He was surprised they didn’t leave blisters in their wake, but maybe he would have preferred that. Because just these simple touches had no reason to feel this good. Aziraphale hummed in pleasure, drinking in how Crowley’s fingers trembled across his pulse point and dipped into his palm. 

“You’re a quick study.” Aziraphale’s voice sounded much more composed than he actually felt. Crowley was looking at their joined hands, reverent, but glanced up at Aziraphale’s voice. 

“Angel.” Crowley’s hand slowed, long fingers wrapping around his wrist. Aziraphale licked his lips, and the motion was watched intently. Crowley’s body dipped forward, an almost inaudible sound spilling off his bottom lip. 

Aziraphale was the one who started it. He leaned in the rest of the way, tilting his head just so and connecting their lips together.

Immediately, Aziraphale knew he was fucked. Something hot and liquid and energetic slipped down his body and into his stomach, shattering through his body in a bloom of heat and lust. He kissed Crowley’s lips, two forces of the Eternal meeting in the middle, and as Crowley rose by straightening his back Aziraphale found himself falling. He wasn’t falling from Grace, wasn’t hurtling into Hell. It was much more dangerous. He was falling for the enemy, stepping willingly into love with the one thing that should have been unlovable in the world. 

He had actually fallen long ago, Aziraphale thought as he cradled Crowley’s head in his hands, kissing him solidly. He had loved Crowley for so long, as a friend and as one of God’s creations and maybe a little romantically. He had loved him since the Beginning and every moment since, more and more until it had consumed him. But it was shifting. It was tangible now, real and fuzzy. Irreversible. 

Crowley had dropped his hands to Aziraphale’s waist, dexterous hands finding their way underneath his vest and wrapping his arms around him completely. Their chests were pressed together, so close that Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s heart beating against him. It was like a drumbeat in his bones. 

His fingers found their way into that flame-red hair. It was warmer than his face, smoking softly from the roots. Aziraphale tangled his hands into it, rubbing at Crowley’s scalp and smiling into the desperate noise he made in response. Crowley kissed him deeper, taking the initiative to slip his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth and elevating the experience. Charcoal and apple filled his senses. 

Without breaking them apart, Aziraphale untangled his fingers and pulled Crowley hips up to him, effectively swinging the demon soundly into his lap. He had to tilt his head back to keep kissing him, but it was worth it. Now, Crowley was pressed fully into Aziraphale’s body and putting delicious pressure down onto his forming erection. The evidence of Crowley’s own enjoyment was pressed solidly into Aziraphale’s belly, and it was unbearably sexy. Aziraphale was breathing hard through his nose, reaching around Crowley to grip at that fantastic ass as they basically rocked against one another. 

Crowley took a moment to shrug off his suit jacket, throwing it behind him wildly along with his sunglasses as he returned to Aziraphale’s mouth. His fingers found their way up the angel’s jaw, tracing behind his ears and teasing at the soft hairs right at Aziraphale’s hairline. Aziraphale moaned, his cock twitching in his trousers below Crowley. Oh, how he wished they weren’t clothed right now. 

Aziraphale gripped Crowley tight and rolled them onto the couch. Crowley moaned into the kiss, now laid out beneath him with those long legs wrapped around Aziraphale’s waist. He was clutching at his shirt collar hard enough to dent the fabric. The cutest little noises escaped Crowley’s throat as they kissed, like he couldn’t get enough of it. It was unfair how much it was affecting Aziraphale.

After a pointed nip to Crowley’s lower lip, the demon rolled his hips upwards. Both angel and demon groaned, suddenly lost in a new series of movements as they ground their hips together. Aziraphale had gravity on his side, rubbing small circles into Crowley’s pelvis as the kiss quickly turned sloppy. 

Crowley’s fingers twitched against Aziraphale’s nape, evidence of just how close he was already. Aziraphale thought it was incredibly adorable, but didn’t say anything. Was Crowley really so sensitive that he was going to come just by a little kissing and some heavy petting? 

Aziraphale reluctantly pulled away after a particularly filthy set of snogs, panting into the shared air between them and dropping open mouth kisses along Crowley’s collarbone. Crowley moaned into the room, every exposed strip of skin bright red, and gripped Aziraphale tighter with his legs. He looked absolutely destroyed, and Aziraphale had the best seat in the house. 

“Now, my dear boy.” Aziraphale dropped his hands to still Crowley’s hips, setting a kiss upon his lips that was a shocking mixture of dirty and sweet. “I do say that that is a temptation accomplished.”

Crowley was staring up at him like he was the moon. Slowly, together, they came down from the edge. Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to strip them both down and finish the job, but it was too fast for that. It would be some time yet before he would allow himself that satisfaction. Besides, he was an angel. He was the one in control here, and going any further would be to fall into demonic temptation. Couldn’t be having that on the first day.

There would be plenty of time for that later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to keep up a pretty regular update schedule, but we shall see. Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, I do read them all and appreciate all of you so much! Thank you for reading!


	3. First time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley manage to actually have sex without discorporating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: frottage, biting, light dom-sub talk, and lots of kissing. And flirting.
> 
> Look, I finally wrote a smut chapter!

Aziraphale heard the door to the shop ring as someone entered, the familiar chiming sending a wave of dread through his chest. He had already fended off three potential book buyers today, and really wasn’t in the mood to scare another one. He was only open for an hour on Saturdays, why were there so many people looking for books? Was there another holiday coming up or something?

“We’re closing very soon, I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.” Aziraphale called from behind his pile of books. He was in the middle of relocating many rare Oscar Wilde volumes that had been attracting quite a bit attraction lately. Hopefully by moving them to the top shelf behind a row of Harry Potter hardbacks would delay their departure from the shop.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. I had bought a rather vintage merlot with me I was hoping to share.”

Aziraphale peeked around his stack of books and was met by black linen and dark lenses. Something jumped in Aziraphale’s chest, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, and suddenly the day seemed brighter.

“Crowley! My goodness, I didn’t know it was you. Head on to the back, I just need to finish up out here.” 

“I’ll help.” Crowley took the top half of the stack out of Aziraphale’s arms. Aziraphale led him deep into the shop, trying not to pay attention to how Crowley’s body was making the room hotter, and set about reshelving. Crowley handed up volumes and held what Aziraphale handed down like they had done this a thousand times before. It was like Crowley could read his thoughts. 

“A Picture of Dorian Gray. I’ve heard of this one.” Crowley thumbed through the pages, oblivious to how Aziraphale nearly fell off the ladder. If Crowley could read minds, he would have known that that was the one book in the entire bookshop Aziraphale didn’t want opened. The angel quickly descended, trying to take the book from Crowley without raising suspicion. 

“Oh, that’s worthless, sentimental really. I’ve read it a handful of times, that’s all.” Aziraphale reached to take the book, but Crowley just as nonchalantly stepped to the side. 

“Seems like all the other first editions you have. It’s even signed. Oh, an inscription-” 

Aziraphale snatched the book out of Crowley’s hands, closing the cover and looking a little meek. He hated being rude, but really he would prefer this copy stay shut. Especially since Crowley had such quick eyes. There was no telling what had already been revealed. 

“Well,” Crowley said after a few moments, “I don’t really read anyway. Not my thing.”

Something was off in Crowley’s voice, but Aziraphale didn’t think about it. It was best if some things were left to be forgotten. 

The merlot was decadent. Aziraphale was on his third glass, taking his time separating the flavors on his tongue, and was at the stage where Crowley was looking rather good. He was distracted by those long fingers, those elegant thighs that stretched on for miles before meeting those slim hips. And good Lord, those eyes. They were the constant moons of Aziraphale’s dreams, and here they were looking him up and down. 

“All I’m saying is that if I’m going to work so hard to make leather pants become popular, I should be able to wear them without having to worry about some General of whatever harassing me about what is and isn’t espionage wear. If I have to listen to one more word about political threats I’m going to explode. I’m only there to sneak out office supplies anyway, I shouldn’t have even been noticed.” Crowley was pacing. This was normal after three glasses of wine. Aziraphale’s eyes tracking every step was also normal. 

“Why don’t you just switch to all leather? I hear that’s coming back in fashion.” Aziraphale nodded sagely. Crowley shrugged, but considered. 

“Not a bad idea. It’s still annoying, though. These people have no idea what’s fashionable these days. I’ve done the exact opposite of what I wanted, everyone stares at me in the halls now.” 

It’s probably because your ass looks amazing in leather, Aziraphale thought. He was tempted to say so too, but dialed it back a bit.

“It’s probably because you wear such form fitting clothing. It does attract a bit of attention, not that that’s a bad thing.” 

Crowley cocked an eyebrow up, swaying a bit as he took a seat across from Aziraphale’s armchair. 

“Are you saying people watch me because they think I look nice?”

“Are you saying I’m incorrect?” Aziraphale leaned forward, placing a hand on Crowley’s knee. His demon’s cheeks flushed bright pink and he stuttered for words. 

“You’re not one to talk, with your suits and ties.” Crowley was determinately not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “The whole of Soho finds you to rather distracting in that manner, I’ve heard rumor.”

“Your flirting could use some work, but you’re starting to get the seduction habit down. Typically you should focus more on what I make you feel rather than a whole London community.” 

Crowley looked stunned at that. Aziraphale rubbed a circle with his thumb over Crowley’s knee. The confusion was absolutely adorable, but Aziraphale had bigger things planned for the night. 

“What?” Crowley said, the cords of his neck standing out. Aziraphale wanted to run his tongue up them. He thought vaguely that he should probably sober up, but the alcohol was making him bold. That, and the way that Crowley’s pulse seemed to jump under his hand. 

“Perhaps I should demonstrate.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, moving his chair closer and reaching to tilt Crowley’s head by the chin until their eyes met. “That’s better. How could I possibly keep breathing without those eyes fixed on me. They’re like the richest gems, saturated with sunlight and dripping with honey. To have them look away even for a moment would be my death, revived solely by a kiss from those sugar plum lips.”

Aziraphale traced his thumb over Crowley’s bottom lip. The shiver it sent through his body was visible. He dipped just inside, feeling the warmth against his skin. He knew what those lips tasted like now. Mercy, did he want to taste them again. 

“Without the touch of your skin to light me anew, I am but a dying ember. I will spark and flare into the night with the whisper of your name, only to crave more. Shall you give it, I will bring gods to life beneath your eyes, worshipping your body as their temple as you keen below me. I can show you colors that have not yet been dreamt, flavors not yet invented, if only for one more touch of your fingertips.”

Aziraphale ran his thumb up Crowley’s cheekbone now. The air was quickly turning heavy between them, rich with intent and magic and heat. Crowley’s eyes slid shut, his breath coming heavier now. A sense of triumph settled in Aziraphale’s chest. He had wanted to say that for a long time now. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley’s voice was airy, “Can you really show me new colors?”

“Perhaps.” Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the side of Crowley’s mouth, causing him to gasp. “Would you like to find out?”

Crowley was climbing into Aziraphale’s lap, hands grabbing at his shoulders and lips kissing him urgently. He tasted like wine and lust. Aziraphale pulled him in by the hips, kissing back deeply. His hands slipped under Crowley’s shirt, tracing lazy paths up the muscles in his back and making the demon moan shamelessly. It was almost too easy to take control of the kiss, commanding the sliding of tongues with practiced ease. Aziraphale felt drunk from more than just wine. Crowley was his undoing, and he didn’t even know it. 

Angel and demon separated for a breath of air, each gasping out the others name. The syncronisity caused them both to giggle for half a second before they were all over each other again, fingers fitting through curls and toes curling in shoes. Crowley truly was a quick study; he had obviously learned from their shared kiss a few days ago and was putting his knowledge in action now. Aziraphale felt like he was flying. 

Almost without breaking the kiss, Aziraphale directed Crowley to standing and led him up the stairs, bumping into end tables and bookcases as they continued exploring with hands and lips. A lamp may have fallen down and a trail of extraneous clothing may have marked their wake, but neither seemed to notice. The whole world narrowed down to just each other, the touches and kisses and sighs lighting the path ahead. 

Aziraphale was in the process of sucking a rather nice, plum-colored hickey beneath Crowley’s ear when they tumbled into his bedroom. The room was hardly used except to change clothing, but the bedding was miraculously clear of dust as the duo tumbled onto it. As Crowley’s buttons began separating by themselves, Aziraphale made a mental note to check his subconscious magic usage. Not now, not with Crowley’s fingers digging scrumptious lines down Aziraphale’s shoulder blades. Right now, the only thing Aziraphale wanted was more contact. 

Crowley looked absolutely wrecked. His head couldn’t seem to lift off the pillow and his hair was in complete disarray, but Aziraphale found that it only turned him on more. He was hard in his trousers, more so now than he had been in many years. Even better was that Crowley seemed to be in the same state. 

Crowley’s breath hitched as Aziraphale smoothed the palm of his hand up over his clothed cock. His back arched off the bed, just slightly, but Aziraphale forced him back down with a fresh flurry of kisses. Crowley’s hands were working furiously on Aziraphale’s shirt buttons, tugging him closer and closer, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. There was no where else he would rather be.

Crowley’s cock felt hot and heavy in Aziraphale’s hand. If he pressed just so, he could feel the ridge of his head right at the top, caught underneath all those layers of clothing. One handed, Aziraphale popped the button open at the top of Crowley’s pants, easing the zipper down slowly. 

“Angel,” Crowley gasped, “What are you… If you that, then I…”

Aziraphale grinned, dropping kisses along his jawline and down his neck. It wasn’t very hard to get Crowley flustered, but to prevent him from finishing his sentences was something else. Aziraphale didn’t stop, pushing those tight pants off Crowley’s hips and rubbing him through his underwear. 

“Trust me,” Aziraphale whispered, “I’ll make you feel so good, just trust me. Do exactly what I tell you to.” 

Crowley groaned, rocking his hips into Aziraphale’s hand. His hands were under his dress shirt, touching Aziraphale’s skin like electricity. His fingers brushed past Aziraphale’s nipple and made him gasp, heat crackling through his skin and making his ears pop. Crowley’s shirt opened on its own, pooling around his sides on the sheets and leaving his flushed chest open to the air. 

“Aziraphale.” Crowley’s hands couldn’t stop, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor beside the bed. He looked slightly overwhelmed, his eyes half-lidded and breath becoming erratic. 

Aziraphale wasn’t deterred, finally getting Crowley’s pants off his legs and pushing down his underwear. His cock laid heavily on his naked abdomen, long and flushed and mouth-wateringly gorgeous. Aziraphale’s fingers were suddenly hesitant, touching the swollen flesh tenderly and, when Crowley only moaned and didn’t discorporate, gave a solid stroke. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley yelped, hands scrambling for purchase. Finally he reached for his angel and pulled him into a deep, messy kiss. Aziraphale gave Crowley a few more solid strokes, pressing his thumb over the slit in the head and smearing his precum down his length. It was hot and heady and it wasn’t until he felt sudden relief that he realized Crowley had been working on undoing his own pants as well.

“Naughty boy, who told you to do that?” Aziraphale bit at the lobe of Crowley’s ear, lining up their hips so his own cock pressed hotly into Crowley’s. 

Crowley released a broken noise into the room. He tried to shift his hips but Aziraphale pushed them into the bed with one hand, not leaving any room to disobey.

“I want to feel you. Please, I want to make you feel good too.” 

Aziraphale’s heart heaved at that, sending rich waves of affection through him. He kissed Crowley’s lips again, softer now, and moved his hand to properly slot their erections together. 

“Oh, my lovely dear. You already make me feel so wonderful. Just look at what you do to me.” Aziraphale thrusted forward, dragging their bodies against one another, and Crowley moaned loudly. His cock seemed to swell in Aziraphale’s hand. Shakily, Crowley dropped a hand to wrap around Aziraphale’s and press them together even firmer. The increased friction was marvelous, and Aziraphale found himself panting into the crook of Crowley’s shoulder.

It felt like it went on for minutes, thrusting and grinding and moaning. Crowley was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He was a melting puddle on the bed, hair smoking dangerously and chest a deep burgundy. It was obvious he was trying to hold on, desperate to go just a little longer without coming, but Aziraphale wasn’t having any of that. He wanted to see what Crowley looked like when he was unraveled, how it looked when he was defiled in the holiest of ways against these tartan sheets. Aziraphale wanted to hear his voice when he came, see if his eyes would stay shut or if they would blink open with pleasure. He had seen a lot of people come over the years, but he had a feeling that Crowley was going to be something else entirely.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, “Come for me, my dear boy. Come.”

Crowley obeyed. Something like a shout mixed with a hiss escaped his throat as he arched beneath Aziraphale, fingernails pressing crescent shapes firmly into the sides of his torso. Aziraphale looked down just in time to see his cock twitch and come, painting their abdomens in thick lines. Crowley was gasping, his whole body tensing and releasing as he rode the most beautiful wave of orgasm Aziraphale had ever seen. 

It was too much, especially when Crowley whimpered a soft “-phale” under his breath and lazily wrapped his legs around the angel’s thighs. Aziraphale thrust three more times into the now incredibly slick warmth of his own hand, and then he was spilling over the edge into bliss. He came hard, lights popping behind his eyes. He wasn’t even aware of how Crowley was staring up at him in open adoration, vulnerable now in the post-orgasm haze. It was just pleasure, pure and angelic, and it took all Aziraphale’s strength not to collapse on top of Crowley once he finished. Their come mixed together on Crowley’s pelvis and chest, making Aziraphale shiver with a particularly strong aftershock. 

After a moment of catching his breath, Aziraphale rolled to the side next to his demon. They just stared at the ceiling for a moment. It almost didn’t feel real, laying here with this man he had been trying to seduce for so long. Sure, it wasn’t exactly in the way he had always hoped, but friends with benefits wasn’t a horrible relationship to have. 

Crowley cleared his throat, eyes still glassy where they were fixed on the rafters. 

“I’ve never seen your room before. It’s nice.”

A heartbeat passed. Then two. Then Aziraphale found himself laughing with a force he hadn’t experienced in millenia, hand grabbing at his stomach and peals of laughter filling the quiet room. Crowley joined in after a moment, head thrown back as he let himself be taken over by the laughter. They laid there like that for a long while, laughing and giggling and trading jokes and stories back and forth. They laid there until the morning sun filtered through the window, and then they giggled some more.

For all the first times Aziraphale had had, this was the only one to not be awkward in any sort of way. They weren’t even embarrassed to be so naked next to one another. It was just free and light and unworried about whatever their now complicated relationship meant. They had been around each other so long, orbiting from afar, that coming together at last felt very much like just fitting two halves of their souls back into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a Spotify playlist for these series of stories if anyone is interested: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0OnRT7AtZZ7BToQ0i9ze1G  
Thank you for reading! Next time: masturbation!


	4. Masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale proposes that they have a set of rules put into place so things don't get out of hand. This time, it helps them both get "in hand".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: masturbation, kissing, voyeurism.

“If we’re going to continue with this, we should put down some ground rules.”

Crowley looked up over his menu, eyes inscrutable behind his dark frames. His wavy hair was tied up in a rather dashing bun at the back of his head, a few tendrils left to frame his face in a way that was both feminine and handsome all at once. 

“Is there something wrong with the way I’m ordering lunch? I thought the menus were standard.”

Aziraphale couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He huffed softly, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening in. 

“I mean with our new… arrangement. We need a set of rules and order to follow, or else everything might just get all muddled up. I’m supposed to be teaching you, after all.”

Crowley hesitated. A waiter stopped by briefly and refilled their water glasses, but Crowley’s shielded gaze never left Aziraphale. 

“You’re suggesting that, as my teacher, we establish a syllabus?” Crowley’s eyebrows betrayed how ridiculous he found the suggestion. Aziraphale nodded, straightening in his chair and handing the demon a sealed envelope. 

“I drew up some ideas in there. I believe half a year should give us enough time, if we meet every week. The pace isn’t as important as the content, for which I need your approval.”

“You know, you’re rather proper for writing down all the ways you want to fuck me.” Crowley said offhandedly as he opened the envelope.

It was a jest, clearly just a poke at their new situation. It had to be a joke. But Aziraphale’s ears were burning. Perhaps he had been a little to obvious with his feelings lately. Maybe Crowley had finally caught on, and was simply going along with this whole new situation just out of politeness. Maybe he wanted out and just couldn’t say it, or worse what if he didn’t feel the same and really was just in this for the experience. Aziraphale felt the knot of worry rise in his chest, scolding himself for being so foolish as to think a demon could share his affliction. 

“It was a joke, angel,” Crowley said after a pause, “Having a plan moving forward is a good idea.”

Oh. Perhaps Crowley truely didn’t mean anything by it. Still, Aziraphale refused to believe the burning on his cheeks was caused solely by such crude words. He had heard all of them before, after all, but coming from a demon was more intimate. The way they dripped fro Crowley’s lips sounded less like a joke and more like a premonition. Aziraphale cleared his throat, regaining his composure almost as easily as he had let it slip.

Crowley had opened the envelope and was studying the contents, his cheeks steadily turning darker. He glanced around, making sure no one was watching, and laid the list on the table, breath turning ever so slightly heavier. Aziraphale took pride in that. 

“Well, that’s certainly very, er, thorough. That should definitely give me a comprehensive, um… education.” 

Aziraphale found himself caught watching the way Crowley was sitting, body shifting minutely as if uncomfortable staying still. Was he embarrassed? 

“Is there anything you would like to add?”

Crowley shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words. Aziraphale hummed in approval, sitting back in his chair and observing his menu once again. 

“Keep in mind,” Aziraphale said, “That although I am open to suggestions, ultimately it’s best if I am the one in charge. It’ll make everything go so much smoother. I was thinking that we should meet every Saturday at 8 pm, unless otherwise inclined. Does that sound good?” 

The words sounded scripted, impersonal, which was the exact opposite from how Aziraphale felt. He was begging Crowley to agree in his mind. As if sensing this, Crowley nodded, his fingers twitching over Aziraphale’s handwriting. There was a degree of innocence about the gesture that was incredibly endearing. Aziraphale grinned, flagging over their waiter to order. 

“Excellent! It’s a date, then.”

Saturday was the next day, which gave Aziraphale just over 24 hours to prepare for the actual beginning of their lessons. It would be easier to separate himself if it was professional like this. He had come dangerously close to letting some sensitive information slip when they had tumbled into bed together last week. Crowley was just so loose and pliant and unwittingly sexy that Aziraphale had a hard time keeping the words locked in his heart. He could find excuses for conspiring with the enemy should Heaven find out about this, but telling Crowley _that_ would take more than explaining to account for.

Crowley knocked on the window of the bookshop at 7:45 pm. Once let it, he immediately started on about traffic and the people he had gotten fired from that business he was infiltrating. It was as if he had just popped in for a visit. Aziraphale felt a bubble of affection grow beneath his excitement as he sipped his cocoa and let Crowley talk his nerves out.

The chiming of the clock at the hour stopped Crowley mid-sentence. Silence overtook them, creeping into the conversation as tangible as the shadows on the walls. Crowley swallowed dryly, eyes fixed on where Aziraphale was calmly putting down his mug and standing. 

“Well, my dear, I do believe it’s time. Would you like to begin?” 

Crowley nodded, confident in a way that was contradicted by how his hands were shaking. Aziraphale took one of those hands in his own, stroking the back of it gently. 

“There’s no need to be nervous. I’ve taken care of you this far, haven’t I? It’s all alright. If you want to stop for any reason, just tell me to stop and I will.”

“I don’t want to stop.” Crowley looked like he wanted to say something more, eyebrows furrowing like he was thinking hard, but the moment passed without any further words. His hands had stopped shaking.

Aziraphale took him upstairs. He had washed the linens on his bed and they were crisp and clean where the duo sat. Aziraphale didn’t let go of Crowley’s hand, picking up a copy of the list that sat on his bedside table. 

“Do you remember where we’re starting?”

“Yes, er,” Crowley nodded, eyes refusing to leave Aziraphale’s lapel, “Masturbation.”

“Excellent, my dear. It’s important to know how humans pleasure themselves, and how you can do it better to them. Everyone works differently, but in order to give maximum pleasure you have to know how to create it. Plus, if you can do it over the clothing, it’s a very powerful seduction mechanism.”

Crowley was attentive in a way that was almost unnerving. It was like he was absorbing every word Aziraphale said into his very body, taking every syllable to heart and letting it rewrite him. 

“How do we start?”

“Like we always do.” Aziraphale answered simply. He traced a hand softly down Crowley’s cheekbone, not missing the way it took the demon’s breath away. He was distracted by how those plump lips parted slightly with anticipation. They were incredibly inviting. He couldn’t believe he had actually managed himself into a position where he was allowed to taste them. 

It was natural to kiss Crowley. He let himself get lost in the sensation for a moment, mouth watering at the deliciousness of it all. Today Crowley tasted like tea and Aziraphale was flying. It was almost too easy to wrap his arms around Crowley’s back and pull him in tight against his chest, like they would discorporate before the moment could end. 

Crowley whimpered against his lips, soft enough that he almost didn’t hear it. Aziraphale felt long fingers trace around to the back of his neck and play with the tiny curls there. It was quickly making him feel light headed. 

Aziraphale kissed him twice more for good measure before he separated them, leaving just barely enough room to breathe. Crowley had shifted towards Aziraphale as they had kissed, gravitating forward like being pulled into orbit. Lust was deeply clouding his sunlight eyes. Aziraphale felt a familiar jolt of arousal at how quickly he could effect Crowley with just a bit of kissing.

“It’s important to build up as much as possible.” Aziraphale’s lips brushed Crowley’s as he whispered to him, causing the demon to shiver all the way to his fingertips. At this rate, they would have a repeat of last time. Not that that hadn’t been incredibly nice and very much wanted again by a certain angel. It was just that they had a syllabus to attend to. 

Aziraphale dropped kisses down the long column of Crowley’s neck, breathing in as much of him as he could. He smelled like sweat and salt, but underneath there was still that charcoal and apple flavor that he loved so deeply. It was fresh and innocent and so remarkably Crowley that it was enough to make Aziraphale strain against his trousers already. 

The hickey Aziraphale had sucked beneath Crowley’s ear was starting to fade, so he set about freshening it back into a deep plum. The demon squirmed under the attention, gasping softly. 

“Angel, that… Oh, you shouldn’t… Someone could see.”

“Mmm, I rather hope they do. Maybe the waiters would stop passing you numbers on napkins with our bill. It would do you good to be marked.” 

Aziraphale nipped at Crowley’s ear lobe before moving down, sprinkling kisses across his collarbone. Crowley was starting to lean back dangerously, apparently no longer in control of his spine. The sound of him panting was simply sinful.

“I never kept any of them. Never had an interest in… whatever they wanted.”

“Oh, but I thought we were doing this so you could tempt people like them?” 

Crowley fell suspiciously silent at that, but Aziraphale forced himself not to read into it. Instead he cupped his hand around the bulge straining along Crowley’s zipper. The demon’s head fell back at the touch, sprawled lewdly back on his elbows beneath Aziraphale. It was very distracting. Aziraphale traced his hand up and down the hard flesh, wishing he could get his hands on it again. All things in good time. 

“I want you naked.” 

Crowley flushed deeply, biting his lip hard enough to turn it white. He raised his fingers to snap, but Aziraphale took his wrist to stop him. The hard look in his eyes took Crowley’s breath away. 

“Properly. I want you to undress for me.”

Aziraphale dropped Crowley’s wrist and sat back. Crowley swallowed and breathed for a few heartbeats. Then he was tearing at his shirt buttons and vest at the same time, desperate to get them off his body. He eventually got the buttons undone and tugged his shirt off unceremoniously, letting the now rumpled garment fall to the floor. He had to stand up to get his trousers and underwear off, unable to stifle the groan that accompanied the release of pressure around his dick. 

Cursing under his breath about how tight his pants were, Crowley aided the offending clothing past his heels and kicked it away. It was then that he seemed to realize that Aziraphale was staring at him the whole time, appraising each revealed inch of skin. Crowley straightened, hands absently trailing up those ridiculously long legs until he was standing in his full naked glory in front of Aziraphale.

“Beautiful.” Aziraphale whispered, looking Crowley up and down. For a long minute he just looked, not making any motion to touch. Crowley was fidgeting and red by the end of it, cock tall and eager for stimulation. Aziraphale so badly wanted to give it to him, but held himself back. 

“Come onto the bed. Sit with your back against the headboard.” 

Crowley obliged, settling himself amongst the pillows and cold hardwood of the bed frame. Aziraphale pulled off his tie, unbuttoning the top of his shirt but leaving it at that. Crowley’s eyes flicked over the skin that was revealed hungrily. His cock jumped against his abdomen, causing a smirk to briefly play across Aziraphale’s lips. 

Aziraphale found himself distracted for a few moments by Crowley’s erection. It was almost too intimate to even consider looking at it head-on, but there was no twinge of embarrassment or chastity that he had grown accustomed to with others. The head was flushed a deep red that bordered on purple, slick with precome. Even without underwear it simply looked like it was straining, desperate for stimulation. Aziraphale’s mouth felt very empty.

“Good, very good, “Aziraphale said, “Now, I want you to run your hands over yourself. Everywhere but that brilliant cock, see what feels nice.”

Crowley nodded obediently and started touching, breathing through open lips. His deft hands started on his thighs, slowly dragging circles closer inwards until he was moaning softly. Just when his fingers got close enough to touch somewhere more sensitive, he pulled away, panting through his nose. Instead he ran his fingers up, spreading wide across his chest. A fingernail grazed Crowley’s nipple and caused him to jerk, eyes slipping close and cock jumping on his belly.

“Steady now.” Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley’s shin, ignoring the heat in his own groin. “Do that again, slower. See how close you can get yourself without touching anywhere else.”

Crowley took that as a challenge, not opening his eyes but following Aziraphale’s direction with flawless precision. He started softly at first, just rubbing in tight circles, but after a few minutes he was tugging gently at the skin and scratching down his chest. The friction caused his back to arch against the headboard and his hands to spasm. Aziraphale filed away that information for later.

“A-Aziraphale.” Crowley managed to get out from between his teeth, his hips thrusting into the air. Aziraphale took pity on him and slid a hand up his thigh, effectively stopping Crowley’s hand from moving any further. 

“That’s enough, darling. Now, I want you to stroke that beautiful cock of yours until you spill all over your hand. Give yourself everything you need.”

Crowley’s eyes finally blinked open, fixing on Aziraphale with fire unlike he had seen before. 

“Not unless you get undressed too.”

“Now, Crowley,” Aziraphale tsked, “Who is supposed to be in charge here? I’m tempted to make you say please, but I suppose I can let it slip this once.”

Aziraphale stood and undressed calmly, folding every article of clothing he removed and setting in on the bedside dresser. It was slow and methodical, but Crowley was watching every movement intently. To Aziraphale, it felt almost like a courtship dance, taking off his layers of armor and letting Crowley see everything underneath. It wasn’t long before Aziraphale was completely nakedl in front of the bed. 

Crowley patted the spot next to him, inviting Aziraphale to crawl back onto the soft sheets and situate himself next to the demon. Aziraphale’s hand almost instantly found its way to his own erection, giving it a solid stroke and wrenching a pleasured gasp from his lungs. Crowley bit his lip hard and copied the motion, groaning into the humid bedroom air. 

“I never asked,” Aziraphale asked as he stroked himself again and again, “About you having genitals. I didn’t take you for one who wanted to put in the effort.”

“Oh, I made the effort long ago. Not long after the 6th century, actually. It was just so freeing to be out of that armor that I wanted to enjoy everything I could.” Crowley’s words were choppy, cut off in weird places by his erratic breathing. He had tried to match Aziraphale’s pace, but his hand had had enough and was moving of its own accord. The movements were sharp and fast, but Crowley seemed to like it if his face was anything to go by. Aziraphale tried to pay attention to how he liked it so that he could replicate this later.

“Sure it had nothing to do with the Arrangement?” Aziraphale asked cockily. He grinned at the deep flush staining Crowley’s chest. 

“That may had made the effort… easier. After I had made it, I didn’t see a reason to get rid of them. Besides, things like this felt so good.” Crowley gasped, twisting his wrist on an upstroke and nearly arching off the bed. 

“Just think,” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s ear, “Think about how much better things like this will feel when I’m the one doing it to you. How it’ll feel when I touch you like this while inside you.”

Crowley gasped and threw his head back, hand moving dangerously fast as he came. He painted his chest, dick pulsing and body jerking as his orgasm moved through him. Aziraphale wasn’t far behind, pushed to the edge by watching Crowley writhe in pleasure next to him. He came hard, ears popping and stars dancing across his eyes as the ecstasy overcame him. 

Distantly, he was aware that the light bulb in his bedside lamp fizzed and broke, pitching the room into darkness. He didn’t care, didn’t even notice anything past the cooling liquid on his thighs and the hot, sexy, damnable, come-covered demon at his side. Crowley had slumped down on the bed so he was laying, eyes closed and breathing slowly becoming steady. 

Aziraphale breathed with him, syncing them together and letting the comfortable silence stretch on. Eventually, Crowley fell asleep. He looked so peaceful just laying there that it was hard not to let those three words slip from his heart. 

Aziraphale knew that he would soon get up to grab a washcloth to clean up and a book and a cup of tea to pass the time. He knew that Crowley would wake up and dress himself and leave, possibly while Aziraphale was out of the room and without saying goodbye. But he also knew that Crowley wouldn’t go too far this time. He’d be back next week.

These were events for later, though. For now, Aziraphale sat relaxed against the headboard in post-orgasm bliss, tracing his fingers along Crowley’s scalp and listening to his soft breathing and the tiny murmurs of his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have ideas about what you might want in future chapters, feel free to tell me! I could probably work some things in!


	5. Blowjobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets a visitor. Crowley gets an important lesson in locking his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Standing sex, semi-public (kinda), blowjobs, hand jobs, excessive kissing.
> 
> If you squint you can see me projecting.

“So, you must have noticed something was off. Your readings have been off the charts lately, but since the level of demonic energy in the area has decreased we’re willing to let you off the hook. Keep up the good work.” 

Gabriel gave Aziraphale a smile that looked incredibly forced. For all his angelic grace, the archangel looked very uncomfortable surrounded by Aziraphale’s books. But, then again, the appeal of physical possessions went over Heavens head. In all the years he had owned the shop, he had only had visitors of a higher sort a handful of times. 

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to say. Gabriel had barely given him a moment to think, but now that the silence was stretching all he could do was work his jaw. He tried to recover as quickly as possible, ignoring the irritated look Gabriel had fixed him with.

“Right, well, I will be more careful in the future. Just overly excited, I suppose.”

“As long as it’s in the name of good, all is forgiven. It can’t be easy avoiding the demon Crowley’s attention. Higher up has declared you’re free to use miracles again because of this development, just make sure they have reasons. I don’t have to remind you what will happen if you are caught performing frivolous magic again. ” 

Gabriel’s voice didn’t change, but there was flaring in his eyes that made Aziraphale want to run. He swallowed heavily, nodding. Genuine terror tingled in Aziraphale’s fingertips. The threat hung like smoke in the air around them, real and bitter. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Gabriel smiled again and bid his farewells. Aziraphale felt himself deflate as the door clicked shut behind him. He placed a steadying hand on the table next to him, breathing oxygen back into his vessel. 

What Gabriel had not said was infinitely more worrying than what he had. Always one to brush around a situation, the archangel had carefully refrained from mentioning that Aziraphale obviously hadn’t known what was going on. According to Heaven, he was doing daily miracles. In reality, he had never performed so few miracles in his life. 

Aziraphale was very clever, enough so to know it wasn’t anything to brag about. Still, it didn’t take a genius to realize what was going on here. With a sinking feeling in his chest, Aziraphale realized that he really _was_ performing miracles all the time, it was just completely involuntary. The bathtub, the clothing disappearing, even the lightbulb from last weekend were all his doing. He felt like he was going to faint.

Across the store, Aziraphale heard the telltale sound of books falling to the ground. Aziraphale took a deep breath, composing himself once again and setting out to find the source.

“I must insist that you’re more careful, whoever’s back here.” Aziraphale said to the back corridors, turning to the corner. There were three different books spread across the ground, but no culprit in sight. In fact, it was impossible that someone could have accidentally knocked them down; the books were from the very top shelf that even Crowley would have needed a ladder to reach. 

Aziraphale stooped to collect the fallen books, shocked to see that two were first edition Harry Potter books. That could only mean…

The third book had fallen open on the floor. Familiar writing stared back at Aziraphale, fond and loving and understanding. Aziraphale felt sick but was unable to tear his eyes away, like the fallen Oscar Wilde was a dying creature he couldn’t save. 

_ I have a feeling I will not be there with you when you witness it. _

Aziraphale snapped the book shut, cutting off his betraying eyes before he could read any further. That was not a memory he would open today. Huffing, Aziraphale pushed the books back into place high on the shelf and out of his mind.

“So, I’m stuck in the vents and the fire’s getting closer, but I can see through to the other side and it would be easy to reach it if I could just stretch a bit further. I could hear that General bastard’s voice echoing behind me, and my phone starts buzzing just as I, ah… As I grab the… the grate.” 

Crowley’s soft voice as almost absorbed by the fluttering pages around him, his fingers twitching over the soft leather bindings against his bidding. He had been talking for a solid five minutes, constantly urged on by Aziraphale every time he tried to stop. 

“Did you get the grate off?” Aziraphale asked casually. He was starting to master sounding unaffected in situations like this, although his body still betrayed him. Crowley gasped as Aziraphale’s words traveled over the skin of his neck like a wave. Aziraphale grinned, continuing pressing filthy, open-mouthed kisses to Crowley’s pulse point.

“Yes. Yes, I got it off and pulled myself through at the expense of my shoe. Not a moment too soon, either; I could see the fire down the vent when I put the grate back on. I made a new shoe and reversed the files I had brought with me. Now, when the new detective tries to find anything starting with ‘G’ he’ll pull up the nursery records. He won’t even know who to take it out on, the whole company is going to collapse.” 

Crowley was talking half a beat too fast and holding his S’s a moment too long. His hands had found rest on the bookshelf behind him and were squeezing with a grip that made the wood creak. Aziraphale nuzzled up behind his ear and found the sharp scent of charcoal as the tiny hairs along his hairline sizzled and popped, so close to igniting that even Crowley’s face was flared up in a bright blush. 

Aziraphale had the demon all but pinned against the bookshelf, pressing him against the hardbacks with his lips. Crowley’s shirt hung open, pushed to the sides by Aziraphale’s hands as he explored the pale expanse of his chest and abdomen. Aziraphale’s fingers gently rolled across one of Crowley’s nipples and forced a broken string of syllables from his lips. 

“What about this General? Did he catch who started the fire?” Aziraphale kissed down to Crowley’s shoulder and nipped at the skin there. He could hear Crowley grinding his teeth, obviously not happy about constantly having to respond.

“No, it was almost too easy to get away with it.” One of Crowley’s hands snaked up to card through Aziraphale’s curls, refusing to let him get too far away. “Angel, what are we doing? This is hardly tempting.”

Aziraphale gripped Crowley’s hips and pressed their bodies together, finally kissing him on the lips. He indulged himself for a long moment, slipping his tongue into Crowley’s willing mouth and drinking in the desperate, heavy noises coming from him. When he pulled back, Crowley’s eyes were half-lidded and dark and his lips were deliciously slick. A metallic bubble of lust closed off Aziraphale’s throat for a moment. 

“Tempting need not work with words, my dear boy. It works just as well with soft touches that leave the imagination open for more. Besides,” Aziraphale’s voice grew gravel rough as he leaned in, “I am your teacher. It isn’t for you to tell me how to teach.”

Crowley swallowed, his tongue flicking over his lips in anticipation. Aziraphale couldn’t resist setting a peck on the corner of his mouth. It was simply too easy to get lost in Crowley like this. Aziraphale was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“Shouldn’t we move to the bedroom, though?” There was something shaky in Crowley’s voice. Aziraphale chuckled, kissing down his jawline and making his slow way down to his collarbone. 

“No, I think we’ll be just fine right here. But don’t you go messing up my bookshelf. I’d like to go to dinner later, not reorganize the Jeffery Archer series behind you.”

Crowley nodded, breathing hard out of his nose as Aziraphale took his sweet time kissing a line down Crowley’s chest, following the sparse dusting of chest hair all the way down. After what had to be minutes, Aziraphale finally situated himself on his knees in front of Crowley, hands rubbing up and down his clothed thighs. 

Crowley looked like he was going to pass out. He was gripping the bookshelf like it was the only thing keeping him upright, lips parted and gazing unblinking at Aziraphale like he was something he was about to devour. Aziraphale licked his lips and popped the button on Crowley’s slacks, causing the demon to make a very undignified sound and his cock twitch where it was hidden from view. It was easier to think on his knees. Emotions tended to drift upwards, so down here Aziraphale could focus more on his job. It was unmistakable what Crowley felt when he was standing like this, however; his legs were shaking like he had just run a marathon. Aziraphale let his hand press over the bulge in Crowley’s trousers, an answering spark of arousal burning through him.

Aziraphale leaned in and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s clothed erection, savoring the way it snatched the air from the demon’s lungs. This was always the best part. The buildup, the anticipation for what was to come. Or who was to come, more accurately. Aziraphale kissed his way gently up the length of Crowley’s cock and rested at the top, finding the zipper with his teeth and easing it down with infuriating patience. Crowley was practically panting by the time he was finished, a sheen of sweat starting to glisten over his chest. 

Seeing Crowley like this, indecently sprawled against Aziraphale’s most precious belongings, was almost too much to bear. It was dirty and hot and Aziraphale had caused all of this and that thought excited him to no end. Crowley had helped him open this bookshop, and here he was being taken apart in it. It was making Aziraphale’s mouth water.

Easing Crowley’s slacks and underwear down off his hips felt like it took years, miles hidden in the deception of a few inches. Finally, after all this time waiting and yearning and wishing, Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s clothing down far enough for his cock to spring outwards. He had seen it before, but never this close. He didn’t spare any look now, drinking in the sight like he would never get to see it again. 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed reverently, “Who let you be this beautiful?” 

It was true; Crowley’s cock was just like the rest of him, long and lean and gorgeous in a way that was indescribable. Indefinable. Ineffable. Aziraphale touched the head with his fingertips, causing Crowley to shiver and thrust his hips up once uncontrollably. 

“Aziraphale.” Crowley whispered, his name like a prayer on his lips. Maybe, for Crowley, it was. 

Aziraphale couldn’t take it any longer. He leaned in the dangerous 4 inches, kissing the crown of Crowley’s cock. He let his tongue peek out and flick against him softly, repeating the motion down the hard flesh and back up again. One of Crowley’s hands tangled in Aziraphale’s hair, not pushing or pulling but just resting there like he would explode without some additional form of contact. Aziraphale let his mouth fall open further, slipping the velvety head of Crowley’s erection into his mouth. 

After 6000 years, Aziraphale was pretty good at this part. This was the first thing he had learned to do with another person, in a way. And despite Crowley having the tongue of a serpent, Aziraphale’s technique was something he had yet to receive criticism for. It didn’t look like that was about to change, either. Crowley was shaking bad enough to make Aziraphale grip his hips to keep him still, the demons fingers twitching against Aziraphale’s scalp.

Aziraphale bobbed his head up and down leisurely, letting his eyes close and enjoying the sensation. He wasn’t a huge fan of the twinge his jaw would give after minutes of this exercise, but it was always exciting to explore another person this intimately. Crowley tasted different from any one else before him. Aziraphale could pick up the hints of sweat, but overall Crowley just tasted fresh. He was cool water and shade trees and fresh fruit, and Aziraphale felt like he could just eat him up all night. It was only made better by how Crowley was pulling him gently back with every bob. He wanted to make this last forever, to take Crowley apart right here for hours until there was nothing left of his self control, but the way Crowley was starting to curl forwards suggested that this was going to be over fast. 

“Angel, please,” Crowley gasped, even his voice trembling with emotion, “I can’t hold on, I’m going to…”

Aziraphale hummed and started working his head faster, applying just enough suction to make a vacuum seal around his lips. He had wanted to taste Crowley like this, to be able to make him feel things like this, for so long. Aziraphale was tempted to suck him past his orgasm until he was hard again and start all over. With Crowley’s stamina, surely it wouldn’t take long. But that really would be going too far, wouldn’t it?

Both of Crowley’s hands were in Aziraphale’s hair now, digging through his curls and across the back of Aziraphale’s skull in a way that felt really, really good. A stubborn trail of saliva dripped out of the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth and onto his collar. Aziraphale tried to stop it, sucking a little harder than before to try to keep everything inside but only succeeding in making Crowley groan louder.

“Aziraphale,” He choked out in a broken tone, “You should…”

His hands gently pulled on Aziraphale’s hair, trying to urge him off Crowley’s swelling cock. Aziraphale batted at his wrist, taking Crowley deeper into his mouth until he was just short of gagging. In the future, he would tell himself he didn’t want to risk staining the hardwood. In reality, he couldn’t breathe another moment without knowing what every intimate part of Crowley tasted like. 

Crowley came with a short yelp, his hips swaying forward and shaking. Aziraphale moaned as his mouth was filled to almost overflowing with salty fluid. He opened his throat and let it slide away, releasing Crowley’s softening cock from his mouth and giving it a parting kiss to ease the shock of cold air. Crowley was gasping for air, still bend forwards over the angel, and seemed incapable of forming any words that had any meaning. 

After a moment Crowley slid down to the floor, legs spreading to either side of Aziraphale and his face hidden in the crook of his shoulder. Syllables were falling from his lips like honey, clearly meant to be words but not coming out as such. Aziraphale rubbed his back, nuzzling into his hair that was slowly ceasing its smolder. 

“How was that, my dear?” He asked softly. Crowley tried to answer but the words still weren’t understandable. Seeming to realize he wasn’t making sense, Crowley simply kissed at a spot below Aziraphale’s ear that made him shiver. 

Aziraphale jumped when Crowley’s fingers went to his own zipper, pulling his hard cock out with expert dexterity. 

“Crowley, you don’t have to-” Aziraphale was cut off by Crowley’s teeth biting at the connection of neck and shoulder. He gasped, hips rocking up into the glorious pressure of those hands. Crowley had him in a tight fist, practically jerking Aziraphale off. He must have paid attention the week before to how Aziraphale moved, because his hands now were pushing him to the edge with dangerous speed. 

A minute passed, if even, before Aziraphale’s head was falling back and his mouth falling open in orgasm. He came hard, his vision whiting for multiple seconds as stars popped before him. Crowley was kissing his face when Aziraphale came to, incredibly soft against his skin and gently tucking Aziraphale back inside his pants. 

“So,” Crowley whispered as the angel slowly regained his composure, and Aziraphale could practically hear him grinning, “You were talking about dinner?”

Aziraphale barked a laugh. He placed his hands on either side of Crowley’s face, placing a solid kiss on his lips and wondering just how he got this lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School starts Monday, I plan on keeping up with updates but it's my senior year of college, so no promises. Love you all!


	6. Clothes Taken Off/Quiet Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is taught a lesson on the virtue of silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, I'm alive! And updating! I know, I can't believe it either. But hey, I've graduated (woohoo!) so I should be able to update more regularly now.   
This prompt was supposed to just be clothes taken off, but I added quiet sex because I'm the author and I can do that.  
Does this chapter make sense? Probably not, I wrote it at 1 am. Is it hot and steamy and will satisfy my need to these two to come together once again? YES!   
Thank you everyone for sticking with me! You have no clue how much it truly means to me, I wouldn't be writing without your support. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: blowjobs, light rimming, frottage, nakedness, feelings, praise kink, and slight dom/sub overtones. Enjoy!

There were 30 seconds between the flipping of his pages. The clock marked their passage, loud in the near unbroken silence of the room. 

Tick, tock.  
Tick, tock  
Tick, tock

Rustle, shwip, hush.  
Tick, tock.  
Tick, tock.

Aziraphale took his time on each page, but still managed to turn the page at perfect 30 second intervals. He was, if anything, punctual.

Maybe it was this irony that made him enjoy this so much. After all, it was 5 minutes past 8 pm, and Aziraphale had not so much as given Crowley a hint as to what was coming. His demon was sitting in the chair across from him, vibrating almost imperceptibly. Since the turn of the hour, Crowley had licked his lips 11 times, flexed his hands 17 times, and glanced at the clock 30 times. His breathing had been hard for 8 minutes now, body obviously aroused and practically begging to be touched. Aziraphale had plenty of mind to give him exactly what he wanted. But not yet. His lesson was just beginning.

Aziraphale uncrossed and refolded his legs in the opposite direction, an action that audibly stole the breath from Crowley’s lungs. It would be flattering to think he could do that that easily at any time of the day, but it was logical to assume that the noise was a response to Aziraphale’s stark nakedness. He was completely disrobed, all clothing upstairs safely in his dresser, where it had been since he had closed the shop at a quarter to 8. He hadn’t said anything to Crowley yet, simply gestured for him to sit and kept reading. 

Aziraphale bobbed his foot to an imaginary beat in his head, paying attention to the warmth his legs gained at the smooth skin-against-skin contact. Heavens above, maybe he should be naked more often. After all, he spent so much time taking care of his vessel. It was a shame not to admire it more. 

Tick, tock.  
Tick, tock.  
Rustle, shwip, hush.

10 minutes past the hour. Aziraphale had finished one chapter and was moving onto the next. The third time he licked his thumb to turn a page, Crowley snapped.

“Angel, if you’re just going to read, I can run and cause mischief elsewhere.” Crowley said, but there was no bite to his words. His irritation was audible, but the look in his eyes said he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. 

Aziraphale read for ten more seconds until he reached the end of the page. Then he put a bookmark where he was, set the item aside, and uncrossed his legs leisurely. Crowley was transfixed, exactly how Aziraphale wanted him. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale took his time with the name, letting it melt on his tongue like honey before he delivered it, “I’m supposed to be teaching you something here, aren’t I? What do you think I’m teaching you?” 

Crowley rolled his eyes, tearing his gaze away from the lighter skin of Aziraphale’s thighs. 

“Well, your syllabus said something about sound, but this just seems like a lesson in making me wait.”

“Some call that patience, my dear.” Aziraphale stood, crossing the room and putting his book onto its shelf. It felt good to have the air travel across his legs so freely, but it felt better knowing that Crowley was watching with great anticipation. “They say it’s a virtue. I have a tendency to agree. And, tell me, what else is a virtue?”

Crowley’s eyes were hazy with lust when Aziraphale turned around. The demon was waiting, listening. If Aziraphale wasn’t so set on what he was about to do, he would be tempted to give in to the fluttering in his chest. Instead, he stepped closer and leaned down, caressing the back of Crowley’s head and putting his lips right before the rim of his ear. 

“_Silence_.”

Crowley shivered hard. Aziraphale pulled back, looking him meaningfully in the eyes and looking for hesitation. He found excitement and curiosity, but nothing to suggest he had gone too far. 

“Temptations are often quiet things done in the dark. They’re secret and fragile. They’re stolen kisses in the school’s broom closet, or the wandering hands of young lovers after curfew. One mustn’t wake the household. Even whispering a temptation can be too much, sometimes you must show with touch alone.” 

Aziraphale moved his hands down to trace Crowley’s collar bone, marveling in the marble skin over the defined ridge. How could one man be so full of angles yet so soft inside. He was so gentle and sweet and considerate and… Aziraphale shook the thoughts away. That was too dangerous to even think here. 

Crowley was breathing roughly through his parted lips. 

“Aziraphale.” He started, his heart hammering under the angel’s palm. 

“Shh,” Aziraphale whispered, “No talking. No noises of any kind. Nothing louder than that clock on the wall, or else we might disturb the whole house.”

He kissed Crowley softly, more as a punctuation mark than anything. 

“You may speak if you want me to stop or something is uncomfortable, but other than that you will be quiet. We’re sneaking around this night, like vagrants.” 

Crowley snorted, amusement pulling his mouth into a smile. 

“Is that why you’re naked, angel?”

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale grinned, “That’s just to make it harder for you. Would you have waited so long and gotten so aroused in complete silence if I had been clothed?” 

“If it was you, yes. I most certainly would have done both those things.”

The sweetness of it was overwhelming, and Aziraphale had to monitor his breathing for a long moment to keep from giving himself away. He kissed him again, just because he couldn’t stand not to, and afterwards put a finger to his lips as his magic dimmed the lights around them. 

Tick, tock.  
Tick, tock.  
Tick, tock.

The only noise in the room was the soft clicking of the clock, loud in the silence, and the almost imperceptible breathing of the two eternal beings in the room. They were both naked now, but this time it was different. It was not like the earlier times, where their nakedness was so comfortable it had hardly made a difference. Now, in the dim and quiet bookshop, it was impossible to look past. They were both naked, tangibly and undeniably. It made every touch reverent, every wayward glance pioneering, every breathed curse precious. They were taking each other apart in the shadows from the street lamps outside, mapping the contours of each others’ bodies. 

Crowley was close, if the way he was gripping the seams of the couch was any suggestion. Aziraphale wasn’t surprised, since the chiming of 9 o’clock had come and went long ago. The sweat pooled in the hollow of Crowley’s neck shone like polished stone. The rest of him glinted with a mixture of sweat and saliva, marking the pathways Aziraphale took with his mouth across the narrow expanse of Crowley’s chest. He simply couldn’t get enough of him; Aziraphale was running a serious risk of becoming addicted to the taste of Crowley’s skin. How was that even possible.

“Shit.” Crowley breathed into the air softly. 

His legs bracketed Aziraphale’s head, his knees trembling and his cock leaking heavily against his stomach. Said angel was taking his time, kissing and licking and stroking slowly everywhere he ventured. He was having a decent amount of trouble staying quiet his own self. He tried to lock the sounds into his throat as he moved south, pressing his tongue flat against the skin below Crowley’s balls and enjoying the shudder it induced. Crowley was incredibly responsive when it came to this, and Aziraphale went deliberately slow as he varied the pressure and tested what his demon liked best. 

One of Crowley’s hands carded through Aziraphale’s curls, scratching heavenly along the scalp with his short nails. The other hand gripped the couch like he was using it to keep from thrusting his hips into the air. 

Their breathing was heavy, but not loud. Someone sneaking in the shadows would have to hold their own breath to hear them, and even then it was doubtful they would be able to tell what amorous activities they were indulging in. 

Aziraphale licked a stripe between Crowley’s balls and up to the tip of his erection, taking the time to let excess saliva slide down onto his lover’s body. Crowley’s chest seized like it did when he whimpered, but no noise came out.

Moving up his body, Aziraphale tasted the flesh of his stomach, his ribs, his collar as he went. Crowley’s shaking legs wrapped around him like they were made to do so, slotting perfectly just above Aziraphale’s hips. If he had prepared him, it would have been the perfect position to make love properly. The thought nearly drove the angel to the edge. He kissed Crowley soundlessly, though their arousal made any soft kisses turn sloppy and deep. It was impossible to get used to this sensation of kissing Crowley, every time without fail it made something inside of Aziraphale soar. He was becoming addicted to the way his mouth tasted too.

“Such a good boy,” Aziraphale breathed nearly inaudibly against his lips, “So good for me, so perfect. Oh, my dear.”

Their cocks slid together like they had on that first night, slick with sweat and precome. Aziraphale thrust against him, his eyes rolling at the blessed sensation to his neglected arousal. 

Crowley’s mouth opened in a silent moan, although it obviously took effort to choke the sound. His chest was heaving as he rolled his hips up, matching Aziraphale’s thrusts to maximize their friction. His entire body seemed to be thrumming with his heartbeat. 

Somewhere, Aziraphale realized that this was almost what he wanted his first time to be. He wanted to shower Crowley with praise, smother him with gentle kisses and soft confessions and mind blowing orgasms. In this moment, he so desperately wanted to say those three words. It was only the ticking of the clock that managed to keep them inside, although it nearly killed him to withhold this great love from his Crowley. 

Crowley gasped softly at a particularly strong thrust, and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s neck. They kissed like they needed each other for air, wild with passion, and Crowley mewled into his mouth as his body stiffened. He came between them like riding the crest of a wave they had spent the last hour and a half building together. It went on for several seconds, the orgasm causing his body to twitch and spasm even as he struggled to stay quiet through it. He writhed underneath Aziraphale, lips parted and gasping softly as he pulled him closer with his legs until the final, glorious wave of ecstasy left him.

Watching Crowley climax in the dim light and soft sounds of the room pushed Aziraphale right to the edge. As Crowley relaxed against him, Aziraphale thrust three more times before gritting his teeth and coming. His eyes closed, but Crowley’s face was seared onto his eyelids as he orgasmed. He nearly said it here too, so badly wanting to confess his feelings, but he couldn’t. Despite the deep well of desire inside him, he somehow managed to make just as little noise as his friend. 

They panted in the softness afterwards. Even though they could speak again, that no one was really even listening to prevent them from doing so in the first place, they both remained mouse-quiet. The illusion held and for a few more moments they could be forbidden lovers carving out time and space for themselves inside a world that would not allow such a thing. Neither had seen anything quite as beautiful. 

It wasn’t two days later that Crowley called Aziraphale’s shop with the news that the Antichrist had been born. Aziraphale wasn’t sure how this would impact their anatomy studies, but their work decidedly had to come first. They just couldn’t risk getting caught. It would be nearly impossible to hide it from their respective offices when being so closely observed. But then, it was a good thing that their last lesson had been on keeping quiet, now wasn’t it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, this is not the end! I've been wanting to explore the 11 year gap in the show of how they raised Warlock, so that's what we're going to do next. Thank you so much for reading, I love you all!


	7. Wall Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley had to put their lives on hold to raise the new Antichrist, but some habits die hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing this slightly out of order, but I don't control these guys, they just do what they want.
> 
> Chapter warnings: semi-public, clothed, fingering, anal sex (we got there folks!), rough-ish sex

They were off track. They were so off track that Aziraphale was nervous Crowley would forget why he had even wanted to do this arrangement in the first place. Maybe the demon wasn’t even interested in tempting anymore anyway, and who could think to blame him. After all, the proper, demonic raising of the Antichrist was all that mattered now. Once Heaven and Hell engaged in their awe-some war, there would be no more tempting because there would be no more competition for souls. Crowley would essentially be out of a job either way, be it to take an eternal vacation or be forever removed. 

Aziraphale didn’t like thinking about the latter. Perhaps only in his own mind could he admit how soft he was for his adversary. In the beginning, back in the garden, Crowley was literally 33% of his entire world. Now, 6000 years later, that percentage had only gone up. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he would do if they were to fight each other on opposite sides, or Lord forbid they be completely separated permanently. The idea made Aziraphale’s skin crawl. An existence without Crowley wasn’t interesting in the least, and there was no way Aziraphale was going to let that happen. Being removed from existence himself would be a more preferable alternative. 

So, his intervention in this whole Antichrist matter was only natural. If the boy turned out to be good, perhaps mercy would find its way into his heart. Perhaps when designing a new heaven, there could be a place inside it where Crowley could still live. 

Of course, even at the age of 5, Warlock was a little shit. He had moments where he could be sweet, as all children were known to have, but Aziraphale found his patience tested more and more as Warlock realized he literally had the world at his fingertips. An absent father who sent home toys in the mail, a tired mother who would rather stop his talking than fight him, and a group of similarly privileged friends were completing Crowley’s work before the demon had a chance to. This job was turning out to be more difficult than the angel had originally thought. 

Aziraphale and Crowley had tried to maintain their syllabus for the first month or so after Warlock was born, but such frequent bouts of alone time proved to be difficult to find. At first it was simple distance; Crowley had to secretly follow the family back and forth to the United States in order to oversee his impressionable years. Even when he was back in England, the bookshop was usually overrun by angels ensuring Aziraphale was prepared to intervene. Even lunches and afternoon coffee meetings were out of the question. 

At the end of the second month, Crowley managed to sneak into the bookshop earlier in the morning than Aziraphale had ever seen him. The sun was just barely cresting the horizon as the limber demon slipped through Aziraphale’s upstairs window.

“Crowley! What in Heaven’s name are you doing here? You’ll be caught.” Aziraphale whisper-yelled at his friend. How had he even gotten up here? 

“I couldn’t stay away forever, Angel.” Crowley said simply, tucking his glasses back away from his eyes. Aziraphale felt his breath catch in his chest. Only once before, back in Mesopotamia, had he seen such sorrow in those brilliant eyes, and never had they been directed at him like this. 

“Crowley… They’ll be here at any moment, you know as well as I do that angels follow no mortal time tables.”

“I needed to see you. I _need _ to see you. We only have a few years before… well.” Crowley glanced away, managing to look composed despite his delicious climbing-induced rumpling. His amber hair was floating out of where he had tied it out of his face and it glowed like a halo in the early morning sunlight. Aziraphale wanted to let it down and run his fingers through it. He wanted to pull and listen to what noises that could draw out of Crowley’s cherry lips. 

“My dear, it isn’t as if we’ll never cross paths again. We’ll be working together as Warlock grows, remember?”

“That isn’t what I meant.” Crowley was staring at him with an intensity that was setting Aziraphale aflame. Something thick sat in the air between them, metallic and sizzling. It wasn’t the soft, buttery warmth of love he was so used to in Crowley’s lingering looks. This was lust.

Aziraphale was about to speak, but a noise downstairs startled him out of reply. The door chimed as someone, most likely Gabriel, came in despite the early hour and door locks. They had seconds before they would be caught. 

Crowley acted before Aziraphale could push him into leaving. Closing the space between them, he gently cradled Aziraphale’s cheeks in his hands and kissed him hard. It was unprompted, not explained away by the excuse of practice or lessons, but Aziraphale didn’t care about the implications. His mind, for the first time in weeks, went empty. All he could think about was Crowley’s lips on his, warm and soft and insistent, and the desperate way they clung to each other. He could feel Crowley’s hands moving against him, hard and urgent, and couldn’t resist kissing him back like he was breathing for the first time. 

Too soon, it was over. Crowley ended the kiss as suddenly as he had instigated it, retreating out the way he had come and leaving Aziraphale flushed and panting. The tingling on the angel’s lips would take hours to go away, and even that night Aziraphale could swear Crowley was still kissing him through the distance of his memories.

It would be their last kiss for years. 

5 years later, with their only subsequent contact being in secret locations that could be compromised at any time, Aziraphale and Crowley finally slept under the same roof again. Well, Crowley slept. Aziraphale read and would pretend he couldn’t hear his demon snoring on the other side of the house. 

The days went by in a blur. Aziraphale gardened, tutored Warlock in the ways of loving all of God’s creatures, snuck a snack out of the kitchen, got scolded by Nanny Ashtoreth for not properly trimming the roses, shared his stolen snack with Warlock, then gardened some more. It was harder work than it sounded. Even stealing glances of Nanny Ashtoreth’s sharp beauty was dangerous, since it was anyone’s guess how the menacing woman would react if he was caught. She was as beautiful and deadly as a viper, and she was excellent with Warlock. 

Each day Brother Francis would try his best to coach the boy into what was right, and each night Aziraphale felt something inside himself boiling. He was full of irritation and jealousy, emotions that would jeopardize everything unless he could manage them. He knew the source, of course. He was jealous that Nanny Ashtoreth was so good with Warlock and that Warlock demanded all of her time, even the late hours when Warlock woke up hungry and would have her bring him a snack. Brother Francis could be Warlock’s favorite gardener and never have that sort of close access. But more than that, Aziraphale was irritated. Crowley was there, with him, pretending like they were perfect strangers. He hadn’t even snuck over to talk in the privacy of Aziraphale’s quarters. It was as if he had forgotten him.

Azriaphale made it a week. Seven days after his start as the Dowling’s gardener, the tension was too great to bear. Leaving his room under the cover of night, Brother Francis set silently through the house. He had never been to Nanny Ashtoreth’s room, but he seemed to know the path by heart. Something was calling him in that direction, almost loud enough to hear. 

He was so focused on getting to his destination that he didn’t notice the person on the other side of the corner before he was running full-body into them. It wasn’t enough to send them to the ground, but their heads clacked together painfully.

“Oh, goodness!” Aziraphale said.

“Fuck!” The shadow said. 

Aziraphale’s heart jumped at the familiar voice. Even in the dark, he could see the dark glasses and curled hair and feel the long dress brush the hem of his cropped pants. 

“Nanny Ashtoreth?”

Crowley’s glasses hid his eyes, but Aziraphale could feel his gaze. 

“Brother Francis?”

“I would have thought you’d gone to bed by now.”

“I suspected the same of you. Something keeping you awake?”

Crowley’s perfume wafted through Aziraphale’s senses, short-circuiting him like a 5-year-neglected light bulb. Suddenly he was back in his bedroom, flushed and wanting a demon that had just fled his window. Crowley wouldn’t be in this hallway if he didn’t feel the same, Aziraphale reasoned. Still, he would ask permission before he did anything questionable, just to be sure. 

So why were his hands on Crowley’s hips, pulling him closer? Why were his lips at Crowley’s mouth? Why was he kissing him recklessly, so hard Crowley had to brace himself on his shoulders to kiss him back? Why was he pushing Crowley against a wall with his chest, pressing them close enough to feel the demon’s frantic heartbeat? Why were his hands sliding up Crowley’s sides, feeling the shape of his body underneath the soft cotton dress?

He had never felt such abandon, unable to stop his body as it was once again drawn into Crowley’s magnetic pull. He slipped his tongue into Crowley’s mouth, nearly sobbing at the familiar, delectable taste of him. The pain of longing and distance seeped out of him the more they touched, the more they moved and slipped against one another. 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale breathed softly, not thinking to feel bad as he roughly gripped Crowley’s ass cheeks and picked him up. He used the wall as leverage, mostly just balancing Crowley on the bones of his hips, but Crowley broke the kiss with a desperate gasp. 

“Aziraphale, what are you…” Crowley looked wrecked already. His glasses had slid off, exposing his brilliant eyes in the dim of the hallway. Those long legs had wrapped automatically around Aziraphale’s waist, and the feeling of his fingers carding through the angel’s curls had him practically melting. Oh, he had dreamed of Crowley touching him like this again. Reality felt so much better.

Aziraphale kissed down Crowley’s neck, causing the demon to cast his head back with a thunk again the wall to give him better access. 

“My God, Crowley… Can I have you? Please, please let me have you. Please say this is ok.” Aziraphale said desperately. He prayed that Crowley would say yes, would be accepting of the lines he was leaping over. He wasn’t completely certain he could stop. 

“Yes. Oh, Aziraphale, yes, oh yes. Please, yes!” 

Aziraphale bit in Crowley’s shoulder, his finger digging into Crowley’s ass in pleasure at hearing those words. Crowley yelped and melted against the wall, his thighs gripping Aziraphale around the middle. Aziraphale was hard in his work trousers, so hard it ached. By the feel of it, Crowley was the same under his skirt. 

Grunting with impatience, Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s skirt up his thighs, letting it pool around his middle. He was wearing panties, the sexy bastard, but there was no way Aziraphale was setting him down. Crowley had yet to change his Effort, if he did intend to do so for his role as Nanny, so he filled the soft cotton in a manner much too lewd for Aziraphale to handle. In a frenzy, Aziraphale balanced Crowley with one hand and undid his trousers with the other. 

The way Aziraphale saw it, he had three options. He could tear the panties off Crowley, he could miracle them away, or he could do this with them still on. The final option seemed cleanest, metaphorically, so he pulled the elastic to the side and slotted his aching erection in the hot, tight crease of Crowley’s ass. His grip was bruising as he pulled Crowley to him, basically grinding against where he was most sensitive. 

“A-Azira.. What is… What’s come over you?” Crowley struggled to get out, palming his cock through the front of his panties, “Slow down, you’re going to make me…”

Aziraphale growled against Crowley’s collar bone. He could practically taste the shiver it sent through his friend. 

“Can’t stop… Can’t slow down. Want you, need you, right now.” 

Crowley was trying to stifle his moans, one hand clasped over his mouth and the other stroking himself through his clothes. Aziraphale was relentless, risking a small miracle to make Crowley’s backside wet with lube but otherwise maintaining a brutal pace of thrusts. The head of his cock dragged against the tight pucker of Crowley’s entrance. They both groaned low at the sensation, making their desperate dance stutter briefly. Aziraphale wanted inside of him. He wanted to fuck him until Crowley was sobbing with pleasure and couldn’t walk the next morning. He wanted it so bad it scared him.

Aziraphale had to stop or he was going to come thinking about this. He didn’t believe in embarrassing sexual encounters, but this would be ridiculous. Not five minutes ago he had been pacing in his room, not daring to wonder if Crowley was doing the same, and now he had the demon pinned to a wall with his chest and hips and cock. It was too much, too fast. He grit his teeth against the desire to keep thrusting, his hands shaking where he held Crowley’s bony hips. 

A fluttering touch and a melting sigh brought Aziraphale back to reality. Crowley’s fingers had found their way south, grazing Aziraphale’s burning erection as they wormed their way to his own hole. He watched Crowley’s face as he fingered himself, suddenly unbelieving that he was lucky enough to be in this position. 

“Crowley?” 

“What?” Crowley’s voice was like gravel over Aziraphale’s body. It was too sexy for its own good. Aziraphale let a hand trace to Crowley’s wrist, feeling how many fingers he had buried up to the knuckles inside himself. There two working in a steady rhythm inside, skillfully working the muscles open. Crowley’s breath caught as he felt Aziraphale touching him there too, and slipped a third finger inside himself. _Good boy,_ Aziraphale thought. Crowley’s whole hand was slick and hot, and Aziraphale had to bury his face into the crook of the demon’s neck to hold onto himself.

“What are you doing, dear? We shouldn’t…”

“Oh, now we shouldn’t,” Crowley’s words came out lustful instead of the sarcastic he probably meant, “I need you too, Angel, so much. I swear, Aziraphale, if you don’t fuck me now, I’m going to...”

Crowley cut off with a soft gasp as Aziraphale kissed just under his jaw. The demon was thrusting his fingers inside himself easily now, his wrist bumping against Aziraphale’s cock with every other stroke. Finally, Aziraphale caught his wrist to still his hand, and Crowley got the hint and removed his fingers. The angel was peppering kisses back to his red ears, struggling to get a hold on his breathing. It had been much too long since he had done this.

“Ngk, Angel… Please,” Crowley whispered. He moved Aziraphale’s face with his clean hand, staring him hard in the eyes. Aziraphale found himself understanding, without words, everything Crowley didn’t say. He had wanted this for so long. He had been ready for so long. And, God dammit, Aziraphale wasn’t going to make him wait anymore!

Crowley slicked Aziraphale’s sensitive cock with practiced ease and lined him up. The touch of flesh brought Aziraphale back to himself and he canted his hips upward, sliding into Crowley in a smooth, unbroken motion. 

Their groans were caught by their shared kiss, only contained to a reasonable volume by the fear of being caught. It had been years since Aziraphale had been inside someone. He had forgotten the tight warmth, the feeling of being pulled deeper into that abyss of pleasure by those pulsing muscles. It was beyond heavenly. The fact that this was _Crowley_, the constant rock of his turbulent life, made it better. Slowly, Aziraphale felt the guards around his heart start falling. There may have been others before, but there was nothing like this. Only Crowley could have this. 

Aziraphale rolled his hips, testing his fit. It was snug, but Aziraphale found he could move with just the perfect amount of friction. It was like Crowley was pulsing around him, and he couldn’t resist pulling out just an inch before plunging back inside. 

Crowley pressed his hips down slightly, and Aziraphale was overcome with desire. He pulled until he was nearly out, then thrust deeply back inside. He started to set a brutal, steady pace in and out of Crowley, pulling his hips into him over and over and over. Crowley was beyond speech, completely dissolved into a puddle of pleasured hisses and stumbled syllables. Aziraphale wasn’t much better, panting softly as he pistoned into Crowley like he had wanted to for so long. 

“Crowley, I’m not going to last.” Aziraphale warned.

“Don’t you dare stop!” Crowley hissed, his eyes clouded and half-lidded as he tried to roll his hips back down onto Aziraphale’s erection. He was jerking himself off furiously, the panties pushed haphazardly to the side. 

It was too much. Aziraphale came first, choking a moan into Crowley’s jawline as he came blindingly inside him. It didn’t end where he was used to, continuing for what felt like minutes of dazzling, white-hot pleasure as he pumped 5 years of pent-up lust and longing into Crowley’s pliant body. He should have felt embarrassed, especially as he felt his come leaking out around him and staining the front of his pants, but everything just felt blissful. He rocked forward twice more and shuddered with a second wave of incandescent pleasure.

He came down slowly, breathing hard against Crowley’s sweaty skin. The demon was mewling softly above him, balancing on that knife-edge of orgasm. His hand was still moving around his rock hard erection, but Crowley looked on the verge of being overwhelmed. Aziraphale mouthed at his salty freckles, grinding his softening cock up into his body. 

“Come for me, love,” He said softly, “Oh, come for me, my Crowley.”

Crowley stiffened and gasped, biting into his own palm as he came in thick spurts on his bunched up dress. His ass gripped around Aziraphale’s sensitive cock, making him flinch, but it was worth it. Crowley was practically glowing, squirming against Aziraphale’s body as he struggled to process all the pleasure. 

Aziraphale set him down as soon as Crowley started to catch his breath, and although his legs were shaky they held. His dress fell back to his ankles, swirling innocently like the one wearing it wasn’t thoroughly debauched. Aziraphale kissed his stunned lips, tucking himself back into his pants before he could betray himself again. 

They stayed close for two more heartbeats, wrapped up in the small world they had managed to make for themselves. Then they stepped apart slightly, just enough to breathe. The hallway was just as silent as it had been before they had met. Crowley cleared his throat, shifting his hips just slightly. 

“Brother Francis.”

Aziraphale grinned, bowing just slightly. 

“Nanny Ashtoreth.”

And just like that, they parted. Each retreated to their rooms, not having been gone long enough to have been discovered, and each fell into a deep, peaceful, and irritation-free sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we have the story actually rolling, so I (hopefully) should be updating more frequently. Thank you everyone so much for reading! If you want to leave a kudos or comment, that would be amazing, I wouldn't be writing without your support!


	8. Phone Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brother Francis is off for the winter. Nanny Ashtoreth misses him more than she lets on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out a bit different than I intended it. And a lot longer! 
> 
> Chapter warnings: Phone sex, dirty talk, praise kink stuff, Warlock being a wingman at age 6, mentions of unhealthy relationships (the Dowlings), and miscommunication.

Brother Francis spent every day, from dawn till dusk, tending the garden. Despite how he would rely heavily on his cane and often wipe the sweat from his brow, he was never without his signature smile and his words of wisdom. There were never more tasty tomatoes nor more fragrant flowers than during the seasons Brother Francis worked, and the lush lawns seemed to boost the mood of nearly everyone in the household. Warlock grew to love the old gardener. He would often seek out his company as he played pirates and time travelers in the yard, and Brother Francis was never without a pear or a plum to share. 

Nanny Ashtoreth, likewise, would spend whatever free time she had in the garden. On foggy mornings, before Warlock was up, she could be seen strolling the grounds next to Brother Francis's stooped figure. Sometimes, in the early afternoon, they could be spotted having tea. On rare occasions, long after Warlock had gone to bed, they may be caught in corners of the garden sharing a bottle of wine and leaning suspiciously close together. 

All of these instances were always written off as gossip by the other house attendants, since the pair hardly seemed to get along at any given moment. Daily, Nanny Ashtoreth would tell Brother Francis he was improperly pruning the bushes or leaving weeds under the lilac trees, which inevitably descended into a debate about the moral implications of cutting up plant matter. Everyone else stayed out of it. The divide between their personality was so obvious that no one ever was able to tell that it was intentional. 

Despite the fights, Warlock loved Nanny Ashtoreth too. He loved her coppery hair and her apple perfume and her bedtime stories. He loved how she presented the world to him on a platter, not as something to appease him or to get him to stop talking, but as something he naturally should have. He loved how confident she was in him. And he loved how he was the only one in the world who knew that she was in love with Brother Francis. 

“He told me he has a lovely house, you know. I bet he could make you apple tarts for breakfast every morning.”

Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t even look up from her mending, her foot swaying where it was crossed in her lap. 

“Who are you talking about, dear?”

“Brother Francis!” Warlock said, watching Nanny Ashtoreth’s eyes closely. He could see the spark in them at the name, the slight tick of her mouth that everyone else took for displeasure. 

“We can’t be talking about this again. I can hardly stand the old bugger, and he’s not that good of an influence on a young tyrant’s mind like yours.”

“But I know he likes you. He likes everyone! You could run away together, like in those movies mum loves. He could grow apples and oranges and cucumbers and you could make sandwiches and I could come every day for tea time. At least, on the days I’m home from space.”

Nanny Ashtoreth looked at Warlock through her dark lenses. To anyone else she would have the eyes of a snake, but Warlock never thought that that was out of the ordinary. Not anymore than he thought it weird how his mother had the same nose as his Aunt Ruth, or how Cassie down the street had a mole on her cheek.

“That’s ridiculous. Brother Francis and I could never live together. Much less would we _cook_.”

“But you could if you were married! You’d be like my other parents and we could meet for Christmas.”

“No one is getting married and no one is meeting for Christmas. Where do you even get these ideas?”

But there was something off in her voice that let Warlock know she liked the idea. He leaned on her knee, hair falling into his eyes where it was getting long. He wanted to be just like Nanny Ashtoreth when he grew up, even though she said it was his destiny to destroy the world.

“But you do love him, don’t you?” 

Nanny Ashtoreth was quiet for a long time. She continued her mending, not seeming to notice how Warlock was holding onto her skirt. But Warlock was patient. He knew she was thinking about the question, a quiet devotion warring with the fabric of her nature inside her. When she finally spoke, it was a whisper.

“As a secret? Just you and me?”

Warlock nodded, inching closer. He loved secrets. Nanny Ashtoreth looked dramatically back and forth, even though they were the only two in Warlock’s room. Then she leaned in, her yellow eyes visible over the rims of her sunglasses.

“I do love him. Just a bit. You must never tell him, though, for he would stop walking the garden with me and I would be heartbroken. You don’t want that, do you?”

He shook his head, scandalized at the thought. 

“I won’t tell him, Nanny, I promise! I swear on my father Lucifer and his throne of the sinful and corrupt.”

“Good boy,” Nanny Ashtoreth smiled and pushed his hair out of his eyes before continuing her mending, “Now, tell me, which of the seven sins did you harness today?”

~

The seasons changed slowly, summer sunny and hot and autumn long and crisp. Soon frost was tipping the leaves of the trees, and the skies were a flurry of fog droplets. Warlock’s father had come home to stay for an entire month, and the world seemed to be at rights with itself.

Winter came almost without Warlock noticing. He didn’t remember when the frost started gathering on the glass or when Nanny started wearing her down coat, but he knew the moment the season officially changed. It was the moment that he had run out into the garden, excited for a day of treasure hunting in the beds, and found the greenhouse doors locked. 

“It’s winter, dear, we don’t need a gardener now.” His mother had said simply. It felt like glass in Warlock’s heart, and before he knew it he was crying and sobbing and wailing for Brother Francis and his tartan collars and kind words. 

For weeks he was inconsolable. He refused to eat a vegetable that didn’t come from their garden. He wore white flannel everywhere, like he could summon the old man by wearing clothing similar to his. Every morning, when Nanny Ashtoreth woke him for his breakfast, she would find his face puffy and red from crying the night before.

“He’ll be back in the spring.” Nanny Ashtoreth had said when he told her why he was upset. She didn’t seem to care about the development, which made Warlock even more miserable. 

“But that’s so long! What if he forgets me and Sister Slug and Brother Pigeon?” 

“Trust me, his memory is not as frail as you think.” She said, and Warlock believed her. Brother Francis had a good memory, enough that maybe he could remember what happened even before he had come to work for the Dowling’s. Maybe he even remembered the beginning of the world!

Still, Warlock insisted every morning and every night to his mother that Brother Francis come back. He began to look thin and gaunt, even to the point that Nanny Ashtoreth told him that if he didn’t eat he wouldn’t be able to lead the legions of the damned. Still, he would not eat.

“Warlock, I don’t know what to tell you. It’s winter,” His mother said after failing to feed him yet another plate of brussel sprouts, “I wouldn’t even know where to find him, he’s probably somewhere sunny until the warmth returns. It’s not like the old man has a cell phone.”

“Then what about a landline?” Warlock spouted confidently. He had heard of those phones on old TV shows he would watch while sick, and it seemed like something Brother Francis would own. 

“Well…”

It was quiet for a long moment. Finally, Nanny Ashtoreth spoke from her seat in the corner. 

“Actually, I do have a number for a shop he… his friend runs. He’s often there, we could try it. _If_ the young master would finish his greens.”

Warlock had never eaten so fast.

~

Nanny Ashtoreth’s cell phone rang three times in his hand. He had seen the contact but wasn’t able to read the long name, not that he really cared. Any name was good as long as it got him to his gardener.

“I’m afraid we are most definitely closed.” The man who answered said. Warlock felt his heart sink a bit, glancing up at Nanny Ashtoreth as she sat in front of him. 

“Please, sir, I’m looking for a friend of mine. My name is Warlock Dowling, is Brother Francis there?” 

The line went silent, and for a moment Warlock was scared that the man had hung up on him. Then he heard a quiet scuffling, like a chair being pulled up. 

“Brother Francis? Yes, he’s here, let me get him.”

Another beat of silence. Warlock gave the thumbs up to Nanny Ashtoreth, who smiled slightly and nodded. 

“Why, Master Warlock! What a pleasure to hear from you today.”

Warlock felt his chest soar with delight. Brother Francis’s voice was so clear he could almost see him. 

“Brother Francis! I miss you!”

“Oh Warlock,” Brother Francis chuckled, “I miss you too. Tell me, have you been good to everyone at school?”

Warlock proceeded to spend the next hour bending Brother Francis’s ear to everything he had missed since he had left. He told him about Sister Slug and Brother Pigeon and everyone else, then told him about the school plays he was practicing and his art projects and his sword lessons with Nanny Ashtoreth. Brother Francis would hum here and there, but mainly just listened in that way that only he could do.

After an hour, Nanny Ashtoreth tapped her wrist watch, telling Warlock that it was time to go. He pouted, but his nanny was firm and tapped again.

“Nanny’s telling me it’s time for bed now. Oh, wait, I forgot to tell you about her! Nanny misses you very much and wants you to come back too!”

Nanny Ashtoreth looked stunned, mouth falling open.

“Does she now?” Brother Francis said, “She hasn’t taken over the gardening herself?”

“Oh, no, no one can garden like you! She wants you to come back and make apple tarts and drink tea in the mornings.”

“Warlock.” Nanny Ashtoreth’s voice had an edge of warning in it. He didn’t pay attention.

“She also wants you to walk with her in the garden and teach her all the animals like you did me. Then you and me and her can all have parties with them and become a pirate crew!”

“That sounds wonderful, Warlock. Is she there with you now? I wouldn’t mind hearing her voice too.” 

Warlock jutted the phone towards Nanny Ashtoreth, ignoring her glare. He had learned that she didn’t really have a bite underneath her frown, and he was using every bit of advantage he had to get Brother Francis to come home.

“He wants to talk to you.”

Nanny Ashtoreth grumbled but took the phone. 

“Hey Az-... Er, Brother Francis.”

“Nanny Ashtoreth, what a pleasure to hear your voice. It’s ever so lovely this time of night. Not that it isn’t lovely at any other time.”

Nanny Ashtoreth was keenly aware that her responses were being heard not only by Aziraphale, but by Warlock. He was fixed on watching her, and she didn’t want to give any more away than she had to.

“I see time hasn’t changed your discretion,” She said nonchalantly, “I would have rang you tomorrow, but Warlock was insistent.”

“No worries, I’m charmed to hear from him. From the both of you. Keeping well, I hope?”

“As well as I can for the winter.”

Aziraphale well knew how much Crowley hated the winters. He was warm blooded enough, even hot blooded at times, but there was a time during every year that not even wool and fires could keep out the damp and cold of winter.

“Well, I’ll always have a kettle on for you. Or anything else you’d need.” Brother Francis’s implication was clear enough, but Nanny Ashtoreth kept her face schooled in a mask of calm composure. 

“Appreciated. I’ll consider it.”

“Please do. Can Warlock hear me?” 

Warlock could not, in fact, hear him. Nanny Ashtoreth took the liberty of ensuring that much, but glanced at the curious young boy anyway.

“No. I’ve made sure of that, don’t worry.”

“Hm, good,” Brother Francis’s accent was slipping into that delicious rumble Aziraphale had at this time of night. Crowley felt, under his disguise, that he was in trouble, “Wouldn’t want to give anything away. You know I’ve been missing you terribly, you never come by the shop. You haven’t forgotten our little agenda, I presume?”

Crowley swallowed, starting to feel hot around the collar. 

“Of course not. But Warlock keeps me busy here. I don’t come into Soho often.”

“You should change that. You should come this weekend. I could close early, open a bottle of wine. You could wear a dress, perhaps I could teach you how to tempt with fabric. Tricky stuff, you know, but if you tie it up in just the right way...”

“Or I’m sure _Warlock_ would like to see the shop.” Crowley said, stressing how tight of a bind he was in verbally. Honestly, the nerve of Aziraphale to talk on the phone with Warlock in the room and _flirt_.

Aziraphale hummed an amused sound.

“Of course. I hear you’re putting him to bed?”

“For as long as he’ll stay there.”

“Hmm, then tell you what. Why don’t you do that, then call me again once you’re alone? I’d love to fill you in on what you’ve been missing around the bookshop privately.”

“I’m sure that’ll be quite a long tale.”

Aziraphale chuckled, sending a spiral of heat down Crowley’s nape. 

“Cheeky. Talk to you soon, dear.”

“Goodnight, Brother Francis.”

Warlock was practically vibrating as Nanny Ashtoreth tucked him in. And, despite her body language, he could tell that she was just as glad to hear Brother Francis’s voice as he was.

~

Aziraphale made a cup of coco, finished the chapter in his book, and turned off all the lights in the shop before the phone rang again. This time he was in the backroom in his armchair, letting his phone ring two times before answering. 

“I’ll tell you again, sir, we are definitely closed. We’ll open again tomorrow at 10 am, so, except for matters of amorous inquiry, please call again then.”

“Seriously, Aziraphale? How long have you been sitting there waiting to say that one?”

“Oh, not very long,” He said, grinning, “I rarely know that it’s you on the other end, so I didn’t have too much time to prepare.” 

Crowley’s voice sounded like Aziraphale’s salvation on the other end of the line. The conversation was natural, as it always was, and the angel found himself aching with how much he had missed his friend. 

“So Warlock is doing well? He must definitely be more good than evil if he managed to pressure you into calling me.”

“Ah, no, he’s just tired of soggy vegetables and dark clothing. He’ll grow out of it in a few weeks, I’m sure.” 

“The way I see it, good is already triumphing. You might as well concede now before you all get destroyed.”

“Well, maybe. But he also closed the door in someone’s face yesterday, so there’s hope for him yet.”

They went back and forth for a bit. They talked about the gardens and about the bookshop and about their reports to head office. Then, suddenly, there was quiet. They had reached the end of what they wanted to say. Even though they were miles apart, the tension between them grew hot and tangible. Aziraphale cleared his throat.

“So, have you been putting any of our lessons to good use?” Aziraphale asked cautiously. Crowley snorted.

“On who, Mrs. Dowling? No thank you. Warlock keeps me busy enough without going out and looking for trouble. Besides, I feel like I need more… practice before that. Just as insurance.”

“A bit hard to practice at home, is it?”

“Especially so when angels take the winter off.”

“That wasn’t my decision. We could practice now if you’d like.”

The silence on the other side of the line sounded like it was an idea Crowley hadn’t considered. 

“Are you back in your room?”

“I am,” Crowley’s voice was softer, more airy, “No one can hear. Though I don’t know what you expect to do, really, unless you miracle me back to you. You’re not in the bath again, are you?”

Aziraphale smiled at the memory. He was tempted to do it, just to be cheeky, but thought better of it. Enough ambient magic was happening already around the bookshop without Crowley there to balance him. 

“You should know by now that it’s not always touch and taste that humans use to tempt. I can show you what one can do with just his voice.”

“Angel,” Crowley said, “You’ve already proven that to me. But... show me anyway.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Turn out your lights for me, and get into bed.”

Aziraphale waited as Crowley did as he said, delicious anticipation coursing through his bloodstream. He liked taking his time, as much as he liked having Crowley against hallway walls, and he intended to take all the time in the world tonight.

“Now, dear, close your eyes and listen to my voice. Listen to me whispering to you, think of all the things I could do to you if I were there. Imagine me there with you, only inches away, but refusing to touch. Just far enough away to not give you the stimulation you want. My voice is my mouth tonight, caressing your shoulders and breasts and stomach and thighs. My syllables are my fingertips, pressing right where you want them. My vowels are my eyes and my consonants my tongue. I will guide them everywhere across you, drowning you with letters.”

Crowley whimpered softly. Something shuffled on the other end of the line.

“Are you still dressed, love?”

“No,” Crowley said breathily, “Just my panties. I took off the dress before I called.”

“Naughty. Were you hoping we’d end up like this?”

“Counting on it, actually,” Crowley’s words were choppy, like he couldn’t resist touching already, “Talk more.”

“Gladly. I think quite a lot about you, you know. I think about how I haven’t really seen you naked in a while. I very much enjoyed our escapes in the garden, but I would love to lay you down and ravish you again. Run my hands over your smooth skin. Feel your body against mine. Taste the inside of you. _Feel_ the inside of you, pressed so close that we’ve become one. You remember that night in the hallway, yes?”

Crowley moaned, but Aziraphale just tsked. 

“Words, dear.”

“Yes.” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale could almost see his demon’s bit lip and trembling hands.

“I’ve dreamed about that night for weeks, Crowley. I ache to be inside you, to move with you like that again. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to help myself in the spring. I may have to just take you there on the grass, skirt up and thrusting into you wildly. Not stopping until you have twigs in your hair and grass stains on your shoulders and you’ve climaxed at least twice.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley moaned, “You could just come back now, you know. No sense in making me wait that long.”

“Hm, but good boys need to learn to wait. You want to be a good boy for me, don’t you?”

Crowley bit down a moan, obviously liking the idea quite a lot.

“Yesss.”

“Then you’ll wait,” Aziraphale said, reaching down and unzipping the front of his trousers. He pulled his hard cock out, giving it a firm stroke from root to tip. “Are you touching yourself?”

“N-not where I want to. Just my chest right now.” 

Aziraphale smiled. He could imagine Crowley splayed over his bed, phone in one hand and touching his rosy nipples with the other. He was probably hard, trapped in the confines of his underwear but not risking the friction that came with removing them. Maybe he was flushed all over, practically glowing in the darkness. Aziraphale licked the memory of Crowley’s sweat from his lips, having to close his eyes as he did so.

“So obedient for me. Why don’t you trail that hand down, just like I taught you. Don’t pull the panties away yet, just touch yourself over your clothes.”

Crowley’s gasp told Aziraphale when he had made contact. He had to press down hard on his erection as the sound made him twitch with need. 

“That’s it, love. Just rub small strokes over yourself. Imagine it’s me doing it to you, feeling how hard I made you.” 

“Angel.” 

“Yes, dear?”

Crowley was breathing harder into the receiver, so close it felt like Aziraphale was there with him. He had to focus on the velvet chair beneath his thighs to prevent himself from accidentally miracling away. He hadn’t expected this sort of thing to affect him this deeply.

“Keep talking.”

“Mmm, greedy little thing. Are you wanting to hear all the dirty little things I think about doing to you? With you? All the little corners and crannies where I want to hide with you, naked and absorbed in the way our bodies mold into each other. I rarely have a day where I don’t find a spot, you know. Places where we could escape and exist only for each other. Not to mention the ways I want to see you displayed before me, a feast ready to be devoured. We could take years to work through just what ideas I’ve come up with today.”

Crowley was panting on the other end of the line now. Aziraphale wasn’t in much better condition, his hand continuing its glide over his hard cock.

“Tell me.”

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley’s string of demands. 

“Where to begin? I could put you under the counter here in the shop, naked and staying quiet while I manage the customers. Filling your mouth with my desire and taking my pleasure right then and there. Or perhaps I’d find you this spring, out there in the garden. I’d bring you through a hedge into a small clearing with no pathways and grind against you in the grass until you scream with ecstacy. Or maybe I’d wait until dark and take you over the bench by the pond, so only the stars could hear your fevered moans. Then I’d take you back to the house and teach you how to take someone apart bit by bit until they can’t even talk.”

“You already do that, Angel,” Crowley said shakily, “It’ssss a shame you’re ssssso far away now.”

“Oh, but the things I can do to you from here. It’s so nice, hearing your voice like this.”

“A voic-ssss-e of a demon?” Crowley hissed. Aziraphale moaned, squeezing his cock for a moment. 

“Better than you can ever imagine,” Aziraphale listened to Crowley breathe for a moment, erratic and lustful, “Touch yourself properly for me, Crowley. I want you to feel what just my voice has done to you. I want you to imagine what yours does to me. Lord, I’m practically aching with how much I want you, how badly I want to be inside you again.”

“Azira-... Not gonna last…” Crowley said unsteadily. 

The sound of Aziraphale’s name like that made his erection twitch hard, and he groaned. He was getting dangerously close too. 

“Oh, my love, say that again. Say my name.”

“Aziraphale! Oh Angel, Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale stiffened, gasping out his pleasure as he came messily all over his trousers. He didn’t even care. It didn’t feel right to touch himself without Crowley here now, and hearing his name said like it was the 8th deadly sin was just too much, soiled pants be damned.

Crowley moaned his climax on the other side shortly after. Aziraphale did all he could to commit the sound to memory. After all these years, he still thirsted for every lustful sound Crowley aimed his direction. 

They stayed quiet for a few more moments. Aziraphale miracled himself clean, letting his breathing return to normal and staring up at the soft brown of his ceiling. 

“Tell me,” Crowley sighed softly, “Tell me what you’d do after.”

“After?” Aziraphale’s voice was warm and quiet, “I’d clean you up with a warm towel, and kiss your chest and tell you how good you’ve been for me. And I’d enjoy that beautiful moment before you become a cheeky little shit again.”

Crowley chuckled, the light sound making something bloom in Aziraphale’s chest. Then, the sound faded abruptly, Crowley’s voice suddenly cracking. 

“Why didn’t you stay for the winter? Plenty of houses have a year-round gardener, you didn’t have to disappear for a whole season.”

Aziraphale hesitated. 

“It’s not like we haven’t gone longer without seeing each other, Crowley. If I recall correctly, there were entire centuries that we never crossed paths.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” 

A silence fell between them. Aziraphale, for the first time, had no clue what to say. How could he explain that he was getting too close, too involved in this charade not to remain impartial to his feelings. He couldn’t risk falling in love, not with a demon. It still hadn’t processed what they went through in the Blitz. He didn’t know what these emotions inside of him meant. It was too intimate, too fast, to walk in the garden and share a bottle of wine and flirt shamelessly every day. Aziraphale could barely function.

“Shit,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale could hear something shuffling on the other end of the line. He hadn’t seen Crowley cry in 5,000 years, but the sound was heartbreakingly familiar. It was soft and odd, just on this side of silent, but it sank like a rock in Aziraphale’s chest. 

“Crowley.”

“Forget it. You know what you’re doing, I’ll keep doing what I’m doing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Crowley.”

“Warlock keeps me busy anyway, I don’t need you to entertain me. You don’t need to call me and say things just to keep me sated a city away. I knew you’d grow tired of this eventually anyway, so it’s not a big deal to keep this professional from here on out.”

“_Crowley_.”

“You could have said goodbye, you know,” Crowley was on the verge of rambling, but the emotional edge hadn’t left his voice, “If not to me then to the kid. You don’t have to fill me in about why you do what you do, I get it, but he misses you. He won’t even eat. It’s horrifying. And he wears those bowties you’re so fond of and it is so difficult to look at him and not see you.”

Crowley took a moment to sniff, hard, and Aziraphale could hear the tears streaking his cheeks.

“But every day he leans a little bit more towards Hell. Just… We can stop our temptations, just tell me you haven’t given up on stopping Armageddon. Because I can’t do it without you. I can’t be the good and the bad influences, it’s too much Angel. You can’t make me be both.”

_You already are both,_ Aziraphale didn’t say. 

“I won’t. I’m… I’m sorry, Crowley.”

He was quiet for long enough that Aziraphale was afraid he had hung up. Eventually, he sighed.

“Take care until the spring, ok? I can keep the kid in line until then.”

“I’m not tired of this,” Aziraphale said, “Of what we’ve been doing. Of you. I don’t think that’s even possible for me.”

Crowley sniffed again, unable to hide his embarrassment in the naked audio. 

“It’s ok. Doesn’t even impact me, you know. I’m a demon, I don’t have those sort of feelings. I should go.”

Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose, still unable to think of what to say. 

“Ok. Goodnight, Crowley.”

“Goodnight, Angel.”

~

The next week, a miracle crop of winter squashes forced Mrs. Dowling to bring Brother Francis back to the estate earlier than intended. He overshadowed her apologies with declarations of excitement, and November was filled with squash soups and hearty breads. Bit by bit, the hollows in Warlock’s cheeks started to fill in. The bags under his eyes disappeared, his clothes stopped hanging from his shoulders, and although he didn’t get rid of the tartan he did start wearing other colors. Nanny Ashtoreth was especially glad about this last development. 

Although the house staff watched them as close as ever, Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis were still frosty towards each other. In fact, it was more apparent now than ever that the two were very unfortunate to be employed by the same family. They were no longer caught walking the grounds or sharing tea. Only the trained eye could see that Nanny Ashtoreth was more bitter than she had been in the summer and Brother Francis didn’t smile at the birds anymore.

Warlock watched all of this apprehensively. Something had changed between his two favorite people. Nanny Ashtoreth didn’t smile at Brother Francis’s back anymore, and Brother Francis stopped seeking her out after he closed the greenhouse for the night. He didn’t know what had happened, but he had to do something before he truly lost the people he cared about the most.

“Nanny Ashtoreth! I found this in the hall!” Warlock exclaimed, sprinting into the living room where Nanny Ashtoreth was watering the house plants. 

“Warlock, don’t run. What is it?”

Warlock tried to hide his grin, holding out a crudely folded envelope. 

“I don’t know, but it has your name on it.”

Suspicious, Nanny Ashtoreth took the letter from Warlock and handed him the plant mister. 

“Dear Nany Astorth,” She read, and raised an eyebrow, “I want to say sory for wat I’ve done. It was rood, shellfish, and bad. Plese forgave me and move into my hoose with my trees and rocket station and ninja dojo. Luv, Brother Franksis.”

Warlock rocked back and forth on his heels, the picture of innocence. That was, if the picture was the definition of how to act innocent and have no one believe you. Nanny Ashtoreth sighed, her frown softening off of her face. 

“Warlock, I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Whaaat? I’m not doing anything. What could I be doing?”

Nanny Ashtoreth took a knee before the boy, bringing her ochre eyes level with his brown ones. 

“Brother Francis and I are too different to be together, and there’s nothing you can do to change that. I’m sorry.”

“But you love him!” Warlock huffed, stomping his little foot. “And he loves you. That should be enough.”

“You’re wise beyond your years, young master,” Nanny Ashtoreth said softly, “And yet you have a lot to learn. People like you and me aren’t meant to love people like him.”

“That doesn’t stop me from loving him. And it doesn’t stop you either. Why do all adults just fight and fight and fight, and then tell me I’m too young to understand why?”

That’s when Warlock started to cry. His tears were fat and hot, rolling in thick drops down his small cheeks. He tried not to think about hearing his mother and father fight through the walls, the words muddled by screaming and insulation. He could still hear the glass breaking, the doors slamming, and his mom crying alone with a bottle of wine in the kitchen. It was unbearable to think of his nanny and gardener sharing the same fate. He had always held out hope that love was better than that. 

Nanny Ashtoreth waited until he opened his arms before she hugged him close, holding his shaking frame close. Her charcoal and apples smell was enough to stop his sobs, but the tears and snot continued to soak the fabric on her shoulder. 

“Hush now, my little devil,” She whispered, “You’re right, I’ve been unfair with him. People have a nasty habit of hurting each other without meaning to. I never meant for it to hurt you too.”

Warlock gripped her tight and slowly brought his breathing back to steady. Then he helped Nanny Ashtoreth finish watering the plants, not noticing how she slipped the letter into her bodice for safekeeping. 

That night was crisp and frosty. Christmas was just around the corner, and Warlock was guilty of sneaking out of his room late at night to watch for snowflakes over the back lawn. He was huddled up on the couch in his thick jumper and cuddling his stuffed imp when he saw them. They were walking in the garden, Nanny Ashtoreth watching the leaves crunch under her shoes and Brother Francis staring with wonder up at the stars. Their mouths were moving, but Warlock couldn’t hear them. 

He sank down into the couch cushions as far as he could go and still be watching them. They were strolling slowly, deliberately. Nanny Ashtoreth was wearing her hair loose, letting it tumble down over her shoulders like molten lava. Brother Francis was walking in a way Warlock had never seen before, back straight and cane nowhere in sight. Despite their opposite looks, they fit together like puzzle pieces. 

When they got to the arch marking the end of the garden, Brother Francis turned toward Nanny Ashtoreth and stopped her casual walk. Her yellow eyes caught the light, and Warlock had never seen her look so vulnerable. She said something, then Brother Francis said something, and then they just stood for a moment under the gable. 

Sparkling in white light, like frost forming before his eyes, Warlock saw something like a miracle. In a pop of green and snow, the apex of the arch changed shape. Warlock gasped, the frost furling up to the sky in swirls and leaving behind a lush ball of mistletoe. It was magical, like something out of a movie. Nanny Ashtoreth looked up with mild surprise, almost as if she had expected this to happen. 

Brother Francis didn’t even look up. He just reached out and took Nanny Ashtoreth’s hand in his own. She looked at him with such an intense wave of love and longing that even Warlock could read everything she wasn’t saying. 

Slowly, as if underwater, she leaned in. Brother Francis almost matched her height when he stood straight like that, so it was as simple as him leaning in too. It was only for a moment, a wonderful moment, but everything in the world seemed alright again. Warlock didn’t even notice that he was smiling as he watched them kiss. The tension in Nanny Ashtoreth’s shoulders eased and Brother Francis softly cupped her cheek like she was the sweetest thing in the world. They separated with soft smiles, saying something back and forth that he couldn’t hear. 

After a moment they walked through the arch and Brother Francis kissed Nanny Ashtoreth’s hand as he bid her a goodnight. Warlock snuck back to his room before he was caught, feeling in his heart that things would be back to normal now. He had found his hope that maybe, just maybe, sometimes love could win.


End file.
